Tactical Insertion
by TriplePirouette
Summary: A series of short fics that take place in Agent Carter, Season 1, assuming Steve, for whatever reason, was along for the ride. Each chapter after the intro corresponds with one episode of Agent Carter.
1. In the Early Morning Light

Title: Tactical Insertion

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: Agent Carter Season 1

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: . Anyone else please ask first :)

Summary: A series of short fics that take place in Agent Carter, Season 1, assuming Steve, for whatever reason, was along for the ride.

Feedback PLEASE at:triplepirouettephile Or just hit the little button there.

AN: I really just wanted to see Steve be a part of Agent Carter, Season 1. This isn't really a fix it, because there isn't much story. Just a little intro then a brief "Insertion" in each episode with what would have happened with Steve there.

Chapter 1 is an intro, chapters 2 and onward will follow the episodes as they were released on American Blu-Ray.

Chapter 1: In the Early Morning Light (Now Is Not The End)

Summary: A brief how, when and why of Steve existing during Agent Carter s1, set at the very beginning of the first episode of Agent Carter.

AN: Just a little background, not meant to be exhaustive. Insert your favorite "Steve was rescued" head canon here.

Peggy stared out at the city as it began to come alive. She was waiting for her tea to boil, waiting for the sing-song siren of the kettle to begin her day. The room wasn't much, but it was enough. She shared it with another woman, but she'd much rather be bunking with Steve. As it was the United States Government saw to it that she barely had opportunity to see him these days.

It had taken them six months to find him, another six to revive him, and even then there were still questions about how fit he was for duty. It didn't much matter, though: World War II was over, and the world didn't _need_ Captain America anymore.

He'd huffed and puffed and finally settled back in Brooklyn, while Peggy took a shared apartment in Manhattan proper. She still had a job with the SSR, though now that she was no longer Captain America's handler, she seemed to be relegated more to coffee and sandwich duty.

The world had been told that Captain America had perished in the fight against Hydra, that he'd given his own life to save those around him. His sacrifice had been glamorized beyond compare and it had rallied the troops and civilians alike in those last, grueling days of the war. The government was afraid that if they revealed that he was alive now, the murmurs of unrest happening in Russia would burst into full-blown war.

He was a secret now, known only to a few in the highest ranks of the SSR, Howard, and Peggy. Even the Howling Commandos weren't allowed to know he was alive, though Peggy was sure they'd hear word soon. It was hard to hide the man whose picture continued to grace every newspaper and magazine cover on the continent. It was why they'd dyed Steve's hair brown and insisted he grow a beard before they let him back into civilian society. He complained the beard was itchy, but didn't seem much to mind the auburn.

Steve, for his part, had turned his mind to writing and drawing. If he wasn't going to take his enforced rest gracefully, at least he decided to do something useful with it. Peggy was sure the military would redact his memoirs to within an inch of their life, but at least one uncensored version should exist in the SSR for posterity. He pecked away at a typewriter most days, sketching memories others as he sat and looked out the window.

She knew that the waiting, the quiet, was killing him. Before, his purpose had always been to be a soldier. Ever since he was a little boy that had been all he wanted to do. Now, he was the world's greatest soldier, and they didn't need him any longer. He'd confessed to her one night that he'd never had any other plan, and it made him feel lost now that he couldn't even go out and find job.

 _It's going to take time_ , Peggy would tell him over and over. It wasn't easy to resurrect a dead man in the media, for one, and there just wasn't a threat big enough for the army to put him on the front lines and at risk again. _Your time will come_ , she'd whisper, distracting him with kisses.

The kisses worked. They were very distracting for Steve and Peggy alike.

It was days like these, though, that were hard. Wednesdays, usually, where she hadn't seen him since the weekend and she knew she wasn't likely to see him until Saturday again at the earliest. They kept her far away, tried desperately to keep him a secret. Sometimes, mid-week like this, it almost felt as if it had all been a dream and he'd never really been found. She still relived that awful day in her dreams, relived his promise over the crackling radio over and over until she woke up with tears in her eyes and her heart pounding in her chest.

The few nights she'd been able to sneak over Steve's she never woke up crying. His solid form beneath her hands was all she needed to remember he was real. But her world, out here in Manhattan and at the SSR, didn't know Steve was alive, and sometimes it was enough to make her feel crazy.

She knew he was alive, knew he was just a few blocks and a bridge away, but she still ached inside like he was lost this morning.

She turned as the teakettle blew its high pitch furiously. SSR and US Government be damned, she wasn't staying away from him any longer.


	2. Ladies Things

Chapter 2: Ladies Things (Now Is Not The End)

Summary: If Steve were around during episode one, listening in and at the club.

AN: This was actually the impetus for the whole series. Just one little image of Steve after hearing what Peggy told Dooley and how differently he'd react. So, of course I had to take it a little further. Slightly longer than I planned. Enjoy.

The small microphone was uncomfortable, but this afternoon had been exactly why she had been wearing it. Peggy busted into Steve's apartment, tossed her small bag to the side as she shrugged off her jacket, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

He turned, his eyes wide with surprise and a tinge of lust, the typewriter left mid-word. "Peg- uh-"

A low laugh escaped her throat as she turned her back to him. "Not now! We've got more important things." Steve moved to her and began to free the small recording device from between the straps of her slip. If he let his fingers wander a little here and there over her skin she didn't seem to mind. "Pull this contraption off me and give a listen."

She pecked him on the cheek and turned, disappearing into the bedroom with her bag. "What am I listening for?" He slipped the tape off the recorder and slipped it on a larger player to listen, pressing a headphone against his ear. The technology was familiar to him from the war, and neither he nor Peggy had been surprised when Jarvis had given it to her. Steve was just as eager as she was to clear Howard's name, and it had given him a renewed sense of purpose that went beyond the four walls of his apartment.

"I slipped into a meeting just before I came home, grabbed a name and some details." Her voice was muffled, as if she were holding something in her mouth. "I was talking to Sousa about Howard not being able to swim just before, that should help you find it."

Steve bounced backwards through the tape, listening every few seconds. There were the city noises it had taken her to get here, then some conversations with Rose at the switchboards… he'd gotten good at deciphering people, even after only a day of listening to the small tapes that Peggy brought him.

 _"He can't even swim."_

There it was. Steve listened closely, pencil in hand ready to jot down names and places.

 _"He tried to kiss me on VE Day. I knocked him into the Themes. We had to get frog men to fish him out."_ Of all the things Steve expected to hear on this tape, that was not one of them. He had the sudden urge to give Howard a good old right hook when he saw him next, but smiled at the thought that Peggy had already done it. _"Something's up."_

 _"Thompson's working on his next medal."_ Sousa. Steve generally liked the guy. He gave Peggy the respect she deserved, at least. _"Got word of a fence trying to sell one of Stark's inventions. Club owner named Spider Raymond."_

 _"Where's it happening?"_

 _"Need to know only. Kinda gives you a warm feeling, doesn't it?"_

 _"Do you need a refill?"_ Steve cringed just as he finished writing down Spider's name. He hated the thought of Peggy filling cups and taking dinner orders. She was so much more capable than that.

 _"Actually I'm still…drinking that."_ Steve chuckled. Peggy had done that to him a time or two, too focused on what she was doing to notice those around her.

There was clanking of dishware, and Peggy was silent on the tape. Usually after some show of silly domesticity required at the SSR she'd mutter under her breath, which made Steve smile warmly. This, however, was odd. He glanced at the bedroom, but she was still hidden by the half closed door.

He could hear she was on the move back in the SSR, the rustling of the dishes and the sound of a door gave it away, and the voices changed. _"…get you some uniform backup."_ Dooley. Her supervisor. If he couldn't see that Peggy was as good a field agent, if not better, than any of the other clods in his department, then Steve didn't have any use for him.

 _"Too showy. Raymond's paranoid. The only things he lets slide are blondes and money. If we want to grab Raymond, and his buyer, with whatever it is that Stark is selling, then I go in light and fast. We want everyone feeling real comfortable. Two men, sidearms only."_ Thompson. Steve didn't like the man at all. He sneered at the tape.

 _"That what you did in Okinawa?"_

 _"Sometimes. Other times we brought a tank. Figured we'd save that for later."_

 _"Ok, Thompson, this is your play. Grinding beans over there Carter? This is field agents only."_ Steve's teeth clenched. If only they knew how much field experience she had, how she could run circles around them. Well, they'd see. He drew angry tornados in the corner of his pad, listening intently still.

 _"It's ok, chief. Let her stay. Maybe she'll learn something."_

 _"Thank you Agent, I already have."_ Steve almost laughed. They'd given her, and him, everything they'd needed to know to go in and get this guy themselves, and yet they thought she was whimpering at their feet for tips on how to do her job.

 _"What do you really want?"_

 _"I wonder if I might request a sick day?"_ Steve's emotions quickly did a tailspin as he listened; he dropped his pencil and held the speaker tighter to his ear.

 _"What's a matter? Got a headache?"_

 _"Amongst other things. Ladies things."_

 _"Aww, geez. Yeah. Sure. Take the day. Go shopping. Whatever makes you feel better."_

"Steve!" He dropped the headphones as he stood. Peggy was behind him, had been at least for a bit. He turned, feeling caught even though she knew exactly what was on the tape, and even more so feeling protective. How dare she plan on going out when she was sick enough to ask for a day off! She was staring at him hard, a vision in a gorgeous silver dress a long, blond wing on her head. She'd scrubbed her face clean of make-up, and she was holding her dress up with two hands. "Can you do my zip up please?"

He gulped and nodded, his mind whirring a million miles a minute.

"You alright? I only asked you three times." She looked over her shoulder and watched as he gently pushed her wig's locks to the side.

"Yeah, yeah." He kissed over the two small bullet holes, something he did every time he saw them. "Just… thinking about what I heard on the tape. Got a little lost." He let a hand rest on her neck, hiding checking to see if she felt feverish in a gentle caress.

"Good." Peggy continued to talk as Steve slowly did up the zipper on her dress. "You've got to find something suitable to wear. And that beard, it had to go, or at the very least clean it up. Fun for out and about- but this is a proper club and you won't get past the bouncer with it as shaggy as it is now. The brown hair should be enough, but I've brought a few pairs of glasses to help sell it, just in case." She turned back to him when he'd finished, concerned at his half worried, half confused facial expression. "Steve?"

His words stammered out. "Peg, you don't have to go out tonight. I can go and you can stay here. Or we can go after Thompson's guys mess this up. I think I have a hot water bottle here somewhere…" Steve was off like a rabbit, his face bright red as he searched through his small kitchen's cabinets.

Peggy trailed after him, hands on her hips. "What in the bloody hell are you talking about? Of course we're going tonight!"

Steve kept digging through the cabinets. He slowed, though, deliberately not looking at her. "You know…"

She peered around, trying to get him to look at her. "No, Steve. I really don't." Peggy stopped one of his arms, and used a hand under his chin to turn his head to get him to look her in the eyes. He was beet red and kept darting his gaze away. "What?"

"You're having… ladies things… and you don't feel well." He pulled away and set to search in another cabinet, his mouth spitting words out faster and faster as he crouched down to look under the sink. "This can wait until you feel better."

"Steven Grant Rogers." His full name, said by her in such a firm, calm voice, made him stop dead. He turned and sat on the floor, looking up at her. "How long did we work together?"

"Well-"

She didn't let him answer; just set her fists on her hips as she continued. "And in all that time, did I _ever_ use the words 'ladies things'?"

Steve ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not that I know of."

"In each mission, each slog through the mountains or the mud or the snow, every run around the base at Lehigh, in any briefing or strategy mission you've ever seen me at, have I ever, ever once, excused myself for not feeling well?" She was calm, unnaturally so, even though he could feel some anger bubbling under her poker face.

"Well, that one time," He started slowly, standing up, "When you got sick right outside of Rhineland."

Peggy walked to him, setting her hands gently on his chest as she took a deep breath and calmed herself. "And what happened?"

"You threw up out the back of the jeep then proceeded to take down half a combat unit on your own." He shrugged, remembering the day with some fondness. He'd been worried about her, but it had been some bad diner the night before, and most of the guys were feeling off. Peggy was the only one who had gotten sick, but it didn't stop her. She had slept in his lap on the way back to base, though. Slept through almost 16 hours of transport straight after that fight. The next morning she was back at the briefing as if nothing had happened. "It was pretty amazing." In fact, he couldn't remember her ever missing a single day or meeting for anything.

"Those men wouldn't know amazing if it hit them in the face. They say they know me, but they don't. Because if they did, they'd know that…"Peggy tapped Steve's chest gently, prompting him to think.

"That you were lying." He smiled.

"Fib," She played with the buttons on his shirt, smirking devilishly. "Little one, not that they'd ever care to know." Peggy shrugged and sighed. "Dooly's never read my file. I can tell. If he had, he'd know that I'm much more than a _'liason'_ with that positively dirty inflection he gives it every time he says it."

"I know, Peggy." Steve leaned down and kissed her gently. "I just got worried. I didn't think."

Peggy smiled and gently stroked over his cheek. "I know. I think you're the only one who worries about me. I like it that way."

"So no hot water bottle?" Peggy shook her head at Steve's question. He smiled. "Good. Because this dress…" He whistled, his eyes softening as he leaned closer to her. "This dress is giving me ideas."

She let her nose brush against his, reveling in the thought of staying in for the night just once for only a second. "Well, keep those ideas for later, Captain. You've got to take me dancing."

He smiled, popping off a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

Steve tugged at the collar of his shirt. He hadn't been properly dressed up in a long time. The starch in the collar felt stifling and the glasses, even though Peggy swore they were just glass, made him feel off balance.

"Quit that," she whispered, leaning into his embrace on the dance floor. "We're supposed to look in love, not like I've dragged you out of the house."

Steve laughed. "Haven't you, though?" He leaned down. "If that handler the SSR has on me finds out we're here tonight, you know we're both getting hauled in."

Peggy pulled her head back. "What? You want to go home?"

Steve wagged his eyebrows at her and leaned forward for a kiss. "Well actually-"

Her hand stopped his lips. "What did I tell you?"

"No kissing," he sighed, straightening up and looking around as he pulled her closer again.

"And why not?" Peggy asked, sounding like a rather frustrated schoolmarm.

Steve half smiled at her, his head bouncing back and forth. "I believe the direct quote is, 'I don't want to have to try to drag your sorry ass back to Brooklyn half conscious.'"

Peggy snuggled closer into his embrace. "Exactly."

The music swirled around them. Steve wasn't any good during the swings or the jitterbugs, but he was very good at holding her tight and slow dancing. The newly neat beard, the brown hair and glasses also worked far better than she'd thought- no one gave them a second glance. They'd made their way around the room, spent some time on the dance floor, and gotten a good lay of the place in no time flat. She turned her head quickly, Steve doing the same, just in time to avoid the club photographer's flash. It wouldn't do to get their faces caught on camera.

"You know, I really don't like the idea of you kissing guys willy-nilly like this." Steve whispered his thoughts in Peggy's ear as they left the dance floor.

"There's nothing 'willy-nilly' about it," she turned to face him as they found an empty spot at the bar. He waved the bartender over and ordered a drink as Peggy fingered the faux diamonds at her throat and looked pointedly at the suite upstairs. Anyone watching would have a very good idea of her next step, just like she wanted. Steve went to hand her the drink but she refused it with the wave of her hand just like they'd discussed. She leaned in close, giving the impression of giving Steve the cold shoulder with a hard look, even as her words had nothing to do with her countenance. "Believe me, I won't be enjoying it. It's work."

She walked away and headed to the staircase, clearing her throat and getting ready to make her move. All Peggy really knew in that moment, when she turned on her best American accent and charmed her way into Spider's suite, was that Peggy wasn't afraid of anything with Steve watching her back.


	3. Back, Front, All Your Sides

Chapter 3: Back, Front, All Your Sides (Bridge and Tunnel)

Summary: After a long day of crime fighting, Steve and Peggy have a quiet moment and some deep revelations... along with some first aid.

AN: Written based on beautifulwhensarcastic's suggestion that Steve is the one who stitches Peggy's wound. My goal is to post one of these per day now until I'm finished with this series.

The key jingled in the lock, making Steve look up from his typewriter. Only one other soul had a key, so he didn't need to turn to see who was there. "Peg, you'll never believe the tripe on tonight's 'Captain America Adventure Hour!' It was absolutely ridiculous!" He laughed, pecking away at the keys on his typewriter.

Peggy limped her way in, closing the door silently and swiftly locking it. She didn't have the energy, or the desire, to pick apart their least favorite radio play right now. Her leg hurt, her cheek hurt, and she couldn't fathom being in her heels one more second. "I heard some of it, unfortunately." The words tumbled from her lips as she sat down carefully, reaching down in a very unladylike fashion to unbuckle her shoes. Had anyone other than Steve been there she might have feigned being fine, or crossed her legs demurely while doing it, but there was no need to pretend with him.

He finally turned, the excitement falling from his face. She attempted to smile at him, to let him know she was all right, but she knew she couldn't hold herself together much longer; she was exhausted. "Peggy, what happened?"

She finally succeeded in pulling her shoes off, wiggling her toes as she tossed the heels across the room. "Which time?" She leaned back in the armchair as Steve rushed to kneel at her side, his eyes and hands scanning for injuries. "I had to throw away Nan's watch, pretend I had no idea what was going on while scanning for Vita-Rays, handed them a suspect on a silver platter and got nothing for it, watched while those brutes tried to beat a confession out of him… did you know people still do that? Barbaric." She sighed and looked back at the ceiling, taking a deep breath and attempting to calm herself.

"You got punched." It wasn't a question; Steve ran his fingers over the small bulge on her cheekbone. She'd cover it with make-up tomorrow and no one would be the wiser. He hadn't gotten in a good hit, but it had been enough to swell a little.

"Amongst other things," she grabbed Steve's hands to get his attention. His eyes found hers, concern written in the crease in his brow and the strong line of his pursed lips. "I think I've cut my leg. Be a dear and grab the first aid kit?"

Steve was up in a flash; back before she could even notice he'd been gone. She raised an eyebrow at him, this was certainly not the time to show off any super speed, but he only shrugged. "I want to hear everything. From the beginning." Steve made himself comfortable at her feet, opening the first aid kit. Peggy winced as he lifted her right leg into his lap. "Bad?"

"No just…" She took a deep breath and relented, his blue eyes boring into hers. "Ok, maybe not good." She closed her eyes and tried to relax as she felt Steve's hands running over her lower leg, massaging her foot and her calf through her stocking. He used long, slow strokes meant to calm her. It was working.

Steve slowly moved his hands higher, pushing back her skirt until he could see the top of her stocking. There was a gash right through her lower thigh, just above the knee. "Peg, this isn't good."

She looked at him, a sad smile on her face. "I've got the best nurse in the 107th right here." He was about to object, but she didn't give the time. "If I see a Doctor outside the SSR they'll want a reason. If I see a doctor inside the SSR they'll tell Dooley. No option is a good option right now, except for you. So get to work."

Steve shook his head. "I know, but the second this doesn't look like it's healing well…"

"Straight off to the doctor, I promise." She patted his hand, grabbing it gently for a second. "I have no desire to get gangrene on account of Howard Stark after surviving Hydra, thank you very much."

Steve lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before he set it on the side of the chair. He pressed another kiss to her knee through her stocking, an apology before he grasped the edges and began to inch it down, causing pain to shoot through Peggy's thigh. "Sorry…" he muttered, quickly taking it off after he'd gotten past her knee.

The blood and the rips in the stocking had made it look worse than it was, but it still wasn't a simple scrape. Steve popped up, heading to the kitchen for a clean towel and a bowl of water. "So, are you going to tell me about this?"

Peggy sighed as he came back, repositioning her leg in his lap. "Eventually. It's been a long day and I just need to breathe for a minute without having to think, you know?"

"Breathe away," Steve ran his thumb over her calf as he gently moved the washcloth, wiping away the dried blood to reveal a small gash and a patch of road rash. He set to cleaning it, silence sitting blissfully between them for a few minutes as he cleaned the wound with all the care and precision of a surgeon. She knew he was on edge, that he wanted to ask questions, but his silence was exactly what she needed. Peggy watched as he switched over to a pad of gauze, presenting the bottle of peroxide with a wince. "Might hurt."

Peggy shrugged, knowing it wasn't going to be pleasant. "As you must."

"Mom always said it was just some bubbles," Steve muttered as he dripped the peroxide into the gash. "It always hurt like hell, though."

Peggy clenched her teeth through the worst of it, relaxing as Steve set about to dry it up with more gauze. "I think I need to find a place of my own."

Steve's head popped up, surprised and hurt. "What do you mean? I thought-"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love this. I do." She took the gauze from his hand and dropped it on the arm of the chair, holding his hand in both of hers. "I couldn't imagine going home tonight to nothing, doing this myself, sitting in an empty room knowing you were over here, but it's already making people suspicious."

"Suspicious?" Steve twined his fingers with hers, holding tight.

"The SSR keeps asking why I haven't been staying in my apartment, and Angie's caught me looking for bigger places for us, so I've just kept saying I'm looking for a new place." She looked down at their hands wound together. There really was no place she'd rather be than with him, but there was no way she'd be able to keep it a secret much longer.

Steve grabbed the gauze with his free hand and put it to the side, clearing away the supplies to he could slide closer to her. "The girl at the automat?"

Peggy shrugged, looking around the small, homey apartment they shared at the moment. "She wants me to move into her building."

Steve's voice garnered no room for confusion or even objection. "I want you to move in here. Permanently."

Peggy sighed, eyes welling with tears for just a second. "I do, too. But there will be too many questions. At least now there would be, and if they pulled you into this Howard mess…" She let go of his hands, falling back into the chair. "Maybe an apartment would be better, just for now."

Steve watched her. "I can't say I agree, Peg." He picked up the first aid kit, picking through to find the small needle and packet of stitches. "I don't like the idea of you out there with no back up to start with. I'd hate having you far away during all of this."

"Jarvis is helpful," She smiled at the thought of her new friend screaming at her from the back of the truck to stop shooting things. "You remember him?"

"Stark's butler?" Steve pulled the small scissors out and set about searching for the tube of topical anesthetic. "Better than nothing, I suppose."

"Oh, don't get so maudlin." Peggy reached over and pulled the tube from under his nose, squirting it on herself. "I miss working with you, too." She smiled up at him as she handed him back the tube, her lips betraying her serious tone. "No one has my back like you."

Steve leaned up, kissing her gently. "Back, front… all your sides. I've got 'em."

"Very smooth!" Peggy's praise was light and gentle, joking but serious as he sat back and threaded the needle.

"Well, Let's hope you feel the same way in a minute." Steve took a deep breath and slid the needle into her thigh.

Peggy winced, but didn't cry out. She did her best to stay calm, but it wasn't one of her favorite sensations. He tied off the first stitch and moved to the second with an intent focus. The needle slid in and out gently. There was still pain, but it wasn't as much as she expected. "You're quite good at that."

Steve looked up just for a second before returning to the stiches. "You have no idea how many times Morita managed to hurt himself. We all had to learn how to do this just to keep that guy together." He sighed. "You're lucky, Peggy."

"Missed the vein by three inches." She stared at the top of his head, wondering what he was thinking.

Steve sighed as he slid the needle through again. "That's not what I meant."

Peggy waited until he tied the next stitch. "Then look me in the eye and say what you meant."

"You're lucky to be alive, Peg." His eyes bored into hers. "Jarvis called, told me everything. Wanted to make sure someone was going to check on you."

Peggy looked away; she wasn't sure if she was angry or embarrassed, but she didn't want him to crumble to pieces under his blue-eyed gaze. "How I managed to stay alive before I met you, I have no idea."

Steve huffed, catching her chin and turning her face back to him. "I can't tell if you're being arrogant or ignorant."

"Both, I imagine." Peggy looked at her hands in her lap, tired of playing games. She wanted him to finish so she could curl up in his arms, stop being strong for one minute, stop fighting against everyone else just for a few quiet moments. Steve was the one she hated fighting with the most.

"You can't just keep going off on your own." He put the needle down, finished with the neat row of stitches, and slid his hands to her waist as he rose up to his knees to get closer to her. "No matter how much you hate those men you work with, they're there to keep you safe. To help. If you're not going to let me do it, you have to let someone help." Peggy sighed, looking up for a second before burying her head in Steve's neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He could feel her melt into him, the stress leaving her at his touch. "There is not a man or woman, no matter how fit he or she may be, that's capable of carrying the entire world on their shoulders."

"You are," she muttered into his neck, holding tight. "You did. You held the whole world on your back during that war."

Steve pulled back to arms length, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was only because I had you. You and Bucky were the only people that ever really believed in me. Erskine knew it, saw it, but you were there every day to remind me." He kissed her forehead and pulled her close, carefully avoiding her right thigh. "Why do you think I put your picture in my compass?" He let his hand comb through her hair, gently rewinding each curl that was disheveled, putting to right each strand that was out of place. "Whenever I was lost, whenever I was unsure, I looked to you." He kissed the crown of her head. "You had my back. When no one else thought I needed it, you were my support."

Peggy rested her forehead against his. "Steve, I- it never showed. I never knew you-" She took a deep breath. "You always had everything under control."

"Because you were always there." He kissed her nose before pulling away, reaching for the antibiotic ointment and the gauze wrap.

Peggy watched, at a loss for words, as he wrapped the gauze gently around her leg before tying it off with a field knot. He'd never said it so plainly before. She knew he liked to have her around, knew he appreciated her input, even knew that their burgeoning feeling were only part of it, but never once had she believed he'd actually needed her. She watched as he put each item back in the first aid kit, leaving it in much better order than she had the last time she used it. "I need you too, Steve." Her voice was low and hoarse, the confession something she'd never imagined herself uttering. "More than I'd like to admit, I think."

Steve smiled as he stood, setting the first aid supplies on the table next to him. "Well then, I'll just have to get you a compass so you can carry around my picture in your purse." He rubbed his hands together as he looked her over once more. "Ice for your eye?"

"No, no," She shook it off, happy that Steve wasn't dwelling on the confessions they'd just uttered. She didn't have the energy for anything else tonight. "It should hardly even bruise."

Steve stepped closer to her, reaching out his hands and helping her up when she struggled with her balance. "Any other injuries that need attention?"

Peggy flinched as she put weight on her right leg, but pressed forward to walk toward the bedroom anyway. "Only my pride, soldier."

"Well then," Steve bent slightly, slipping his arms under her and lifting with one easy scoop. He cradled Peggy in his arms, "I think we can work with that."

"What are you doing?" Peggy's mock outrage at being lifted was enough to finally bring a smile to her face, making Steve smile even more.

He gave her a gentle bounce, making a show of his impromptu game. "What's the use of having a boyfriend with super strength if he can't carry you into the bedroom?"

Peggy wagged her eyebrows at him, licking her lips. "Oh, is that what you're doing?"

"Mm-hum," he affirmed, adding a silly swagger to his slow walk towards the dark bedroom. "You know, if you move out of here, no more of this any time you want it."

"Well," Peggy wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into his chest, "That is something to consider."

Steve turned, walking back toward the front door. "You are an independent woman, though; a lone wolf in red riding hood's clothing. Maybe I should let you do your own walking?" He slowly feigned lowering her to the floor. His taunt was cheeky, meant to lighten up the mood and it worked in spades.

She gave him a gentle smack on the arm, knowing he barely felt it. "Certainly not! I'd like to reap all the benefits of my super soldier boyfriend, please." As he straightened and lifted her even higher in his arms she couldn't help but be impressed. For all she tried to hide it, for all she knew she'd never care if Steve was still a 90-something pound asthmatic, sometimes she couldn't help the way she reacted when he put on a display for her. She pointed to the darkened room across from them and smiled. "As you were."

Steve turned and strode with determination into their small bedroom. "Yes, Ma'am."


	4. The Day I've Had

Chapter 4: The Day I've Had (Time and Tide)

Summary: Steve joins Peggy in the Griffith and then heads down the sewers…

AN: …these were supposed to be short little one shots. I forgot how much I freaking love this show. Inspired by Awelling's suggestion of Steve climbing up to see Peggy at the Griffith. Probably NOT what she had in mind, but it's what my brain decided needed to happen. Enjoy.

Peggy hauled the hulking green bag out of her closet. Tonight was not going to be a fun night. She was still on edge from the dressing down she'd received from Dooley. Many a superior officer had yelled at her in her day, but always for something she'd believed in, and always for something she could be honest about. Today was the first time she'd lied to a commanding officer, the first time she'd taken responsibility for 'being a dumb broad' and messing up their case.

She didn't like the feeling it left her in the pit of her stomach. She would never let them do that to her again. Some days, it didn't feel worth it.

Peggy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, returning to the inventory of her bag. If it wasn't enough to have an official reprimand on record for something she wasn't fully behind, now there was Jarvis- a traitor. At least, at one point he had been. She didn't know what she had been thinking, trusting a man she knew so little about. She had at least some faith in Howard, but Edwin Jarvis- she could count on one hand the things she actually knew about him.

Truth was, he could have very easily done this whole thing himself, the perfect inside man, and he was just 'helping' her to keep her of the trail.

She shoved the pack away and sighed, looking at the field uniform laid out on her bed. Peggy hadn't worn it in years. It reminded her of cold nights in Germany and all day marches through French woods with her eyes trained on a red, white, and blue shield.

The drainpipe creaked a familiar tone that made her roll her eyes. Another silly suitor was going to try to get in this place, and no doubt another girl would be tossed out in the morning. She grabbed her gun and held it tight in her left hand, opening the window a crack with her right. "Sir," she whispered, "I suggest you give up this foolhardy plan lest you get your paramour tossed out in the morning."

The evening was just dark enough to obscure the man's features when he was looking down, but when he tipped his head up and smiled at her, there was no mistaking who was carefully making his way up to her window.

"Maybe that's my goal. I do have some pretty good accommodations she could share." Steve smiled up as he inched close to the window, stealthy as could be. He got both hands on the windowsill and pushed up gracefully, slipping into the room without another sound.

Peggy couldn't help but smile, but gave him a theatrical roll of her eyes for good measure. "You will get me thrown out, I think she watches the drain pipes." She didn't move when he pecked a kiss to her cheek, just shut the window and made sure that the curtain was well closed over.

Steve laughed quietly, his voice little more than a whisper as he sat himself on her day bed. "Well, you can't tell me that this place is impenetrable and not expect me to give it a shot."

Peggy wrapped her dressing gown around her tightly, sitting next to Steve and shifting closer until she was pressed up against his side. "I supposed that did sound like a challenge."

"Yeah, yeah it did." Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her tight for a long, quiet moment. He eyed the bag on the table, scratching his beard gently. "Going somewhere?"

Peggy stood, scooping up the black pants next to her. "Mr. Jarvis and I were planning on traversing the underground escape route that was used to steal Howard's inventions." She looked at the bathroom and then shrugged, slipping the pants on right in front of Steve. Only when they were mostly done up did she notice he had followed every movement. "What?"

"You just, uh-" He waved his hands towards her legs as she buttoned the waistband, and smoothed her slip. Steve finished with a shrug and shy smile.

Peggy let her robe fall from her shoulders, tossing it in Steve's lap playfully. "What? It isn't as if you've haven't watched me undress before, what's so different about putting the clothes _on?"_

Steve tossed the robe to the bed and stood, wrapping his hands around her hips and pulling their bodies flush. "Just makes me think about taking them off again is all." He leaned down, kissing her slowly. One hand slid around to the middle of her back to hold her close as she wound her arms around him.

It gave her a little thrill to be doing something against the rules like this, just like when they'd snuck away from base for a few quick kisses, or had held each other through the night on long, desperate missions. Steve was slowly backing them towards her small day bed when a loud knock sounded at the door.

They jumped apart like teenagers caught by their parents as the knocks continued. Peggy grabbed her robe as Steve shoved the duffel under her bed. When he didn't move to hide, Peggy pushed him into the bathroom, shaking her head. "If I'm getting thrown out you're doing all the packing this time," she whispered harshly before closing the door.

The knocks continued again, making Peggy's heart jump into her throat. It was the insistent knock of something serious; someone was hurt… or angry…

"Oh, I've been on my feet so long, I've sprouted roots!" Angie pushed past Peggy and made herself quite at home.

Peggy hadn't even been prepared with a lie as she'd walked up to the door. She had to try to think fast, which seemed an awful chore at the moment. "Hello, Angie, sorry. I was... I..."

"An 8-hour shift, and I got a whole fifty cents in tips." The waitress fell onto the bed, onto the very spot Steve had been just seconds ago. "The war's over. I thought we were all spending money again. How was your day?"

Part of Peggy wanted to finally relent and be friends with this wonderful woman. She was so happy, so trusting, and Peggy had always wanted a friend like that. "Well, 50 cents in tips would have been a considerable improvement."

"I got a bottle of Schnapps and half a rhubarb pie. Let's see which one makes us sick first." Angie looked at her like the adoring kid sister she'd always wanted, eager and accepting, if not a little naive sometimes.

If she didn't have plans for tonight, and Steve wasn't in the bathroom, she would have said yes. She thought about just telling Angie about Steve, even just saying that there was a man about, but she knew that Angie would never let it alone, and Steve being a secret would be out the window. "Oh, sounds lovely, but I was just about to go to bed."

"It's 8:00, grandma. Come on! Tell me about your crappy day. Maybe it'll make me feel better." Her voice was bouncy, not a bit worried, and deep down probably just as lonely as Peggy was sometimes.

It hurt her to say the words, to push the woman out, but one day she'd see it was all for her own good. Hopefully. "I'm really tired. M-maybe some other time." Peggy opened the door, not wanting to drag it out any further.

Angie was wounded, hurt and dismayed as she flounced out of the room. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

Peggy's heart broke just a little for the woman. She hadn't meant to actually hurt her. "No, you didn't disturb me. I-"

"No, it's fine. I know a brush-off when I see it."

Steve cringed from inside the bathroom. The voices were muffled, but clear enough to follow the conversation. He'd come partly out of concern, partly from a desire to see her, and absolutely because he saw the impenetrable fortress of The Griffith as a challenge. He wouldn't have come if he thought he'd actually put her in danger of being evicted.

With the voice of what he assumed was the owner outside, he didn't even dare move a muscle. He'd meant to surprise Peggy tonight, spend some time with her, and then slip out quietly. Seemed like a foolish idea now.

The door to the bathroom suddenly swung open. Peggy stood there, lips pursed tight. "Clear for now, but you best shimmy back down that pipe while Fry is busy with this new girl."

Steve stood and nodded, trying to slip past Peggy as quick as he could, feeling ridiculous for all his efforts. She grabbed his arm as he moved past, stopping him. "Well?"

"What?" He looked down at her, his voice as quiet as he could make it.

She kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear. "Meet me at Howard's in half an hour. There is work to be done."

Steve waited for Peggy in the shadows, just outside the door to the Stark Mansion. "I see you," her voice sang as she rang the doorbell. "Get out of those bushes before Jarvis' wife calls the police."

He stood and stepped out of the shrubbery as Jarvis opened the door. "Just-"

"Felt like playing spy?" Peggy asked with a smile. It vanished quickly as she addressed the butler. "Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

Jarvis, who Steve had only met briefly before, was equally as icy. "Not at present, no."

"Very well, let's get on with it." Peggy marched through the door and Steve could feel the chill from her demeanor. He'd been faced with that coldness only once, and he knew just what it meant.

"Want to fill me in?" Steve asked as Jarvis closed the door behind him.

They both began to follow Peggy through the corridors. "I think that's the lady's preference at present," Jarvis quietly replied, equally as icy.

"Right." Steve was fed up with being kept in the dark, but there wasn't any use in pushing for information now. He followed until they stopped in a large vault, a hole blasted through the floor.

"Mr. Stark believed the intruder had some advanced technological assistance." Jarvis watched as Peggy and Steve both leaned down, looking closely at the blast pattern. He would have loved to have Falsworth or Dernier with them. Either of the men would have been able to tell them with just a look how and with what the hole had been made.

Peggy sighed as she leaned forward, running a hand over the smooth edge. "Mr. Stark believes brushing your teeth requires advanced technological assistance." She whistled, a quick trick they'd all learned from Dugan, and waited to hear the echo. It was deep, but not too deep, and big.

Peggy stood, pulling the climbing equipment out of the bag and handing it to him to start setting up. It was easy to fall into the old routine, running lines and hooking carabineers without too much thought.

Steve looked at the two harnesses and handed one to Jarvis before he slid the second over his hips. He cinched the straps as Peggy hooked him into the rigging they'd set up, handing a second hook to Jarvis. Without a word Steve bent low and Peggy hopped on his back.

Jarvis watched them work quietly in concert to redouble the line and make sure it was tight. He only spoke when Steve held out his hand to clip Jarvis onto the rig. "You've done this before."

Steve nodded, but it was Peggy who answered. "More often than you'd think."

Steve smiled as he finished setting Jarvis' lines straight. "You've got some experience, too, haven't you?"

"Himalayas before the war." Jarvis smiled at the memory. "Though, at the time, I was strapped to a very amusing Spaniard named-" Jarvis was cut off as Steve lifted the lines and dropped them swiftly into the hole. With a few swift hand movements he lowered them gently to the ground.

Steve did his best to ignore the chill between the two. He was glad he was here, if only to fill the gap in efficiency that emotional frustration could make in a team. He wasn't sure what he'd find under here, or what exactly they were looking for, but he was ready for anything.

Peggy swiftly jumped off Steve's back and set about securing the ropes to get out quickly if there was a need. "You are, of course, well within your rights to maintain your privacy."

Jarvis slipped out of the harness and handed it to her. "Thank you. I agree."

Steve flinched, knowing what was coming. She might as well be holding a gun to the poor man. "A charge of treason, out of context, is not necessarily what it appears to be."

"Treason?" Steve dropped the lines and stepped between them, shocked.

Jarvis turned and began down the long sewer corridor. "Quite so."

Peggy moved off, leaving Steve behind as she continued, her words like sharp knives echoing in the quiet. "In fact, my involvement with you and Mr. Stark could, on the face of it, be considered treasonous."

Jarvis' reply was short and tight. "Indeed it could."

Steve jogged to catch up as Peggy continued on, "I don't need to know the details of your past, Mr. Jarvis."

Steve passed them, stopping them both before they could go any farther. "Well I think I do. Treason?" Steve's tone was incredulous, frustrated and tight.

Jarvis huffed, tired of this. "On my honor, you can trust me."

Steve crossed his arms and shook his head, a pose he'd used often when trying to intimidate. "Your honor is not enough. If we're going to be working together, risking our lives together, then Peggy and I have to be able to trust you."

Jarvis looked away, his jaw set hard. "Mr. Stark deemed me worthy of his trust."

Peggy sighed, looking at her hands. "I don't know how much I trust that man anymore, Jarvis. I'm sorry."

Jarvis turned, stricken and saddened by Peggy's confession. He took a deep breath and started his story, looking between the two sets of judging eyes. "Before the war, I served under a general. We traveled a great deal. We were in Budapest when I met Anna. She worked in a hotel tailor shop... Sold me the most beautiful tie. And then the war broke out, and things became... difficult."

Peggy's face fell, she felt like she knew exactly where this was going. "She was Jewish."

The small smile that lit up Jarvis' face didn't quite reach his eyes. "Still is, I'm happy to say." The cheer turned serious as he continued. "The general carried several letters of transit in his safe, any one of which would have ensured her safety, but he refused to sign."

Steve nodded, letting his hands fall and relaxing. This man wasn't dangerous, only resourceful. It was something Steve would do in a heartbeat if it meant saving Peggy's life. "You forged his name."

Jarvis nodded. "Hence the dishonorable discharge." He shrugged. "It was filing the papers that sunk me. I was arrested in the middle of Whitehall."

Peggy felt properly put in her place, her voice soft as it left her lips. "How did Anna get out?"

"The same way I avoided the noose." Jarvis looked at Peggy with some sympathy. He hadn't wanted to make her upset, but he knew this would, in the end, make her trust him more. "Howard."

Steve nodded, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Thank you."

Confusion flooded Jarvis' eyes for a moment, but he just moved on. "Yes, well, you're welcome."

Peggy cleared her throat, looking around the sewer. "Now that we all feel like right prats, let's get going." Peggy started ahead, passing Steve and Jarvis. "You said that it was raining that night?"

Jarvis nodded as he and Steve ran to catch up, trying to switch his thought process. "A positive deluge. Why?"

Peggy turned and carefully walked backwards, looking at the men as she talked. "New York is one of the last cities to still use its sewers to run off storm water. When the tunnels are full, the tide gate opens and the water runs into the river."

Steve jogged a few steps to catch up with her, his eyes opening wide as he caught on. "So all they would have needed was a raft and the weather forecast…"

Peggy smiled, turning back around, "…and he could have floated his stolen treasure all the way to the sea."

The three quietly snuck onto the ship. Peggy and Steve cleared spaces and rooms with a technique that reminded Jarvis that they were far more skillful and capable than he liked to remember. They were soldiers, and dangerous ones to boot.

"Bingo," Peggy whispered, ushering them through a door to see a stack of crates barely concealed with a fishing net, each emblazoned with Stark's logo.

"Careful!" Jarvis reached his hands to stop the pair as they nearly tore through the top crates. "Some can be skittish."

Steve slowed his movements and nodded. "I am… _very_ …well aware of that."

"Very true," Jarvis concurred, letting them peak into the containers for a moment.

Peggy slipped her closed and began to exit the ship. "Right, let's call it in."

Jarvis just shook his head. They were capable soldiers, and honest people, and neither lent to being strategic in this moment. "Miss Carter, I'm not sure you've thought this through."

Steve moved, just two steps to show he was taking Peggy's side. "Well, we can't just leave them here. Peggy found them, she deserves the credit."

The butler shook his head, frustrated at the situation, for he wanted Peggy to get the credit, and saddened that he had to be the one to make her understand this. "She can't reveal she's found these items." Jarvis stepped closer, determined.

Peggy huffed, as near a tantrum as she could get without actually having one. "I'm certainly not turning them over to you to be stolen the next time you feel sleepy!"

Jarvis took another step forward, threatening enough to make Steve change his stance. Jarvis froze; Steve was imposing as it was, but his amiability made him seem smaller somehow. The man was poised and ready now, with all of his attention focused on Jarvis, and it was far more intimidating than he ever imagined. Still, Jarvis knew he couldn't back down. "Agent Carter, how did you come to discover the stolen items?" She began to answer, but he didn't let her, he just took another step and continued, looking pointedly at Steve. "Why did we find the fingerprints of one mister Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, at the scene?" He took another step, close enough to drop the volume of his voice and let his words have the impact. "What is your relationship with Howard Stark? Have you been in contact with him since his disappearance? Are you collaborating with Stark, a known traitor and fugitive from justice?" Jarvis stepped back, taking a deep breath and attempting to recompose himself. Both Peggy and Steve were stunned at his display. "Publicly revealing these items won't clear Mr. Stark's name. They'll only place you under suspicion along with him."

Peggy's chin quivered for a moment, but she held herself together, turning her frustration outward. "Do you see the day I've had?" She marched toward Jarvis, "I will call this in and they will respect me!"

"Damnit," Steve muttered, coming up behind Peggy. He gently took her hand in his, squeezing. "Peggy, you know they won't." Peggy whirled on Steve, her eyes filled with betrayal. Her eyes met his and she knew that he was right, even if she didn't want to believe it. Her whole body sagged with acceptance. "You were right before, the time hasn't come yet."

Peggy couldn't look at either man. "There's a phone box across the street." She took a long, hard breath. "Call it in, but for God's sake, don't let Krezeminski get hold of it." She let go of Steve's hand, scrubbing her face. "Sousa's working the office tonight. I can just about stomach him getting the credit." Jarvis nodded, setting off solemnly. "Oh, and uh, Mr. Jarvis," he stopped, watching as she put herself back together before his eyes, "they know your voice now."

Jarvis left them silently. They were standing close but no longer touching. Steve couldn't watch her crumble and compose herself again one more time. "Peg…"

She pressed a hand gently to his chest. "I-" She took a deep breath. "Can you go check the other compartments?" Her eyes were pleading when she looked up at him. "I don't think I could keep a clear head now if I tried."

He took her hand and kissed it, concerned. He knew his best girl and she needed some time. That was something he could give her. "I'll be back in a few."

Peggy didn't move as Steve left, just took long, deep breaths. She wasn't sure what she wanted anymore. Was it worth it, all of this, to try to clear Howard's name? If he were innocent he would be cleared no matter what she did. She looked over the crates of tech, the inventions that should have been destroyed long ago. She was tempted to wish Howard Stark had never come into her life, but that would mean she'd have never met Steve, either.

She herd heave footfalls behind her. Steve was as light as a dancer, so it must have been Jarvis. "That didn't take long." When she turned she was met with neither man, but rather a hulking brute with a very angry look on his face. "Oh, thought you were someone else."

He took a few steps toward her as she tried to come up with a plan. "Brannis told me one of you would be coming."

Peggy smiled, a cheeky grin that was tinged with fear. "One of me?"

He backed her into a wall, sweat and dirt clouding her senses. "And I'm not afraid to kill a woman."

Peggy steadied herself, ready for another go for today. If the universe wasn't going to give her a break, she damn well would take it head on. "Would it make a difference if I told you I won't make it easy?"

His breath swept over her like a hot wind from a dank marsh. "Yeah, he told me that, too."

Peggy ducked the first punch, and didn't think much after that. She didn't much have a style of fighting, but rather a strategy: hit, don't get hit. If you get hit, hit him again. It was scrappy, and dirty, and she used everything and anything around her that she could. A stapler, boxes, purses… she once put a Hydra operative's eye out with a high heel. Now, though, she wasn't thinking, just ducking and hitting. He was big, far bigger than she'd fought for a long time, and she was so tired. He was getting the best of her, but she wasn't ready to give up yet.

She thought about giving up, just for a moment, when he had her against the crates with a pipe against her throat. She could barely breathe, but the green glow of the box next to her gave her something to reach for, a plan for half a second.

Steve was swift and quiet when he came in. She knew the exact moment he came through the door because the light changed, and only a few footfalls, too quiet for the brute to hear, brought him to them.

Steve wrapped his arm around the man's neck, pulling him off of her and pressing tight. It only took a few seconds for the man to pass out.

Steve left him in a heap on the floor as he went over to Peggy. "Are you ok?"

She rubbed at her throat, but nodded quickly. "Fine, fine."

He reached out to check her neck as Jarvis's shadow fell across the door. "I can hear sirens in the distance. Your people are fast."

Steve grabbed her hand, pulling Peggy toward the door. "We should go."

She dug her heels in, looking at the man on the floor. She wasn't going to go through all this to keep her name out of it, only to have this man identify her. "We can't leave him here, he's a witness!"

Steve picked her up, tossing Peggy over his shoulder with ease. "No time. Not gonna let you get caught like this."

Peggy braced her arms on Steve's back as he walked out onto the dock. "I'm officially protesting."

He put her down, turned her toward the alley and pushed her forward as the sirens got louder. "Officially noted, now go!"

Jarvis followed behind them quickly, muttering to himself, "Now I must learn how to do that. Even if I can't use it for Miss Carter, it should definitely come in handy with Mr. Stark."


	5. I Trusted You

Chapter 5: I Trusted You (The Blitzkrieg Button)

Summary: Peggy's had quite enough, right as Howard shows up. Steve, as always, seems to be a voice of reason.

AN: This is where it gets hard, because pretty much the rest of the season hinges on Steve being "dead" and Peggy protecting his blood. Ok, here goes.

Peggy knocked twice before she used her key, knowing that if Steve was sleeping her knock would at least wake him. It wasn't too late, but with no routine schedule he'd been keeping some odd hours. He'd knocked on her window at the Griffith the other night at 4AM with a thermos of coffee, the morning paper, and a wide grin.

She switched on the living room light, passing through the bedroom and tossing Steve a shirt as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Everything ok, Peg?"

"How do you feel about a roommate?" She leaned back against the windowsill, arms crossed.

Steve slid the shirt on, his hair sticking up in all directions as he pushed his head through. He held his arms out toward her as he yawned into his shoulder. "I'm always up for some company." He wiggled his fingers, mustering a lazy smile as he waited for her to join him.

Peggy swayed two easy steps to his arms, letting him hold her for a moment. "Sorry to disappoint," she pecked a kiss to his forehead and smoothed his hair, "but it wouldn't be me."

"Too late, already have you." Steve's words were muttered against her stomach and his hands slowly caressed her hips.

"Howard's back." Steve looked up at her as she spoke, in the moonlight he looked mysterious with his dark hair and close cropped beard. She didn't mind it, but she missed the blonde- the hair dye had changed the texture of his locks just a bit, and the beard scratched against her cheeks when he kissed her. These things didn't bother her enough to think about them normally, but she missed the softness of his hair and smooth feel of his cheek on hers all the same. "He needs a place to hide for a few days."

Steve shook his head. "Peggy…"

She let her hands fall on his shoulders, serious. "I'd take him to the Griffith, but he's not exactly discrete."

Steve nodded and stood, giving Peggy a tight squeeze before stepping away and pulling a pair of pants from the drawer. "He can stay. Better a roommate for me than for you."

Peggy smiled, it was tired and not full, but it was still a smile. "Thank you, darling."

Steve watched as she went over to the window, opening it up and signaling out over the fire escape. "Pegs- where were you going to have him sleep if he stayed with you?"

Peggy smiled over her shoulder. "Not in my bed, that's for sure. My floor seems comfortable enough, or there are plenty of beds other than mine that he could sweet talk his way into."

Steve nodded, but didn't say anything as Howard made his way to the fire escape landing. "Hey, Steve!" Howard's greeting was strained as he folded himself to get through the window. "Good to see you again. I like the brown!" Howard held out his hand with a bright smile on his face.

Steve shook it, but cautiously. "You're in some pretty hot water there, Howard." Howard had been on the team that had found him in the artic, that had helped unfreeze him when he first came back. He'd seen the man last over a year ago, though, while they still had Steve holed up in a base in southern Canada.

Howard waved his hand and meandered farther into the room. "Eh, they're just making a big fuss. If they'd listen for one minute we could have avoided all this."

Peggy pushed past Howard, ushering him into the living room. It was nearly six in the morning, she had to get the boys settled and make it into work on time. "Well, you could have destroyed all those 'bad babies' in the first place."

Howard was taken aback, his face a contorted in a comical twist. "Destroy them? Peggy- are you nuts? It's science- it's discovery! One day I might figure out why that damn back massager breaks bones and be able to fix it!" The inventor turned to look out the window, the early morning light starting to seep in.

Steve leaned over Peggy's shoulder with a whisper, "Remind me to never borrow any of his stuff."

"I heard that, Cap." Howard whirled, pointing his finger at the man. "I had a few bad ones, everyone does."

Steve held up his hands. "Just a joke, Howard." He sat on the couch, running a hand through his hair and scratching at his chin. "Why are you back? Seems like this is the last place you'd want to be."

Howard sat across from him, rubbing his hands together. "I need to know what inventions the SSR recovered. This way I can figure out what's still on the black market."

"Jarvis could have asked me to do that," Peggy's circled the room, her mind going a million miles a minute. "Why do you need to be here?"

Howard pulled a pen out of his pocket and aimed the back at her, pressing the clip down until they all heard a quiet click. "Because he doesn't have this."

Peggy took it from him, tipped her head and slid it into her pocket. "Camera-Pen."

Howard watched her as she stood next to Steve, completely unimpressed. "Camera-pen? That's all you have to say? Do you have any idea how long it took me to figure out lens miniaturization?"

Peggy straightened up, "Yes, right, sorry." She opened her eyes wide and feigned excitement, mimicking the women who usually flocked to his side. "Oh my word! How ever did you make it so tiny? What an amazing feat of science and ingenuity!" She straightened her suit with a smirk as Steve tried to hide his laughter. "Better?"

Howard stared at her, partly amused, partially frustrated. "No, nope. Unimpressed was better coming from you."

Peggy shook her head at him. "I am slightly impressed, Howard." She shrugged as she grabbed her purse from the stand by the door, "I'm just also quite cross with this whole charade at the moment." Peggy pecked Steve on the cheek before she turned to the door. "You boys play nice, I'll be back with the pictures by dinner."

Steve and Howard watched her go, an awkward silence falling over them. Howard, of course, would have none of it. "So, roomie, what's for breakfast?"

"Howard," Steve stood and shook his head. "Refrigerator is in the kitchen, help yourself." He clapped the man on his shoulder briefly. "I'm heading back to bed."

"Yeah, of course." Howard nodded, solemnly. "Forgot what time it was."

"Make yourself at home." Steve began to close the door to his bedroom, but peaked out of it at the last second. "No women."

Howard held his hands up as the door closed. "Geez," he muttered under his breath, "I have some reputation."

The sight that met Peggy when she returned to Steve's apartment was one that she had not been prepared for in any way. Howard was at the stove in the silliest, frilliest apron she could have imagined, flipping pancakes in a skillet. Steve was at the small table, his mouth full and half of a ridiculously tall stack of the breakfast in front of him, dripping with syrup.

"Peg!" Howard flipped the flapjack again and plated it, holding it out to her as she dropped her purse and keys. "Just in time!"

She approached cautiously, leaning on the seatback next to Steve. Howard slid the plate in front of her, the pancake steaming hot. "In time for breakfast? It's six in the evening."

"It's the only thing I know how to cook," Howard poured more batter into the hot pan, the sizzle filling the apartment. "Gesture of good faith for taking me in."

Steve swallowed his mouthful and pointed his fork at Peggy's plate. "They're actually really good."

"Don't act surprised," Howard's attention was on his messy workspace, flour and eggshells were everywhere, but the pancake in front of her was pristine. "I didn't always have a butler."

Peggy took the fork from the place setting meant for her and stole a syrup soaked piece from Steve's plate, placing it daintily in her mouth. She nodded as she chewed. "Not bad," she affirmed after she'd swallowed. "But we have more pressing things."

Howard turned, making the pink ruffles on his apron flutter. "You got the pictures?"

Peggy put her fork down and tried to avoid looking at Howard in his ridiculous getup. "I'll start developing them, you boys can clean up here."

"Sounds like a plan," Howard chirped cheerfully, flipping another pancake. "I'm almost done here anyway."

Peggy pulled the pen out of her pocked and rolled it between her fingers. She leaned down close to Steve's ear and whispered, "Do I want to know where he got that apron from?"

Steve swallowed another bite, whispering back conspiratorially. "He was wearing it when I came back from my run. I didn't ask."

Peggy nodded, an evil glint in her eye. "Howard!" Peggy shouted, holding the pen up. As soon as he spun she snapped off two pictures.

He just shook his head as he went back to the stove, cleaning up the bits of batter that had been flung from the pan as he turned. "Ya play dirty, Carter."

Peggy made sure the film was safe under the towel as she opened the door, even though there shouldn't be any danger in white light at this point. She didn't want to have to find another way into the lab to take more pictures. Both men squeezed into the small bathroom around her and waited until she lifted the strip of film in the air.

Peggy held it closer to the light, startled but unsurprised at what she found. "She seems… uninhibited."

Steve cringed as Howard took the film from her, "The first ten or so might not be suitable for your eyes."

Peggy huffed a laugh. "You know I have one of those," she pointed at the frame she'd gotten a glimpse of, "and a pair of those myself. I do know what they look like."

Howard shook his head. "Since VE Day I try not to think about the things you have."

Steve clapped him on the back, part congratulatory, part warning. "Good idea, Howard."

She rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake, let's just get to it." She turned, her back up against the sink as Howard sat on the edge of the tub. "How's it look?"

Howard waved his hand at them. "Shh, I'm taking a mental inventory."

Peggy leaned against Steve, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth. "Best be quiet," she stage whispered.

"He's deep in thought," Steve replied in kind, letting his arm wind around her hip.

"Serious business, you know, could take days…" Peggy shook her head, watching Howard get frustrated out of the corner of her eye as she feigned seriousness.

Steve smiled a little, opportunities to feel so carefree were few and far between these days. "Watch the way his eyebrow twitches each time he takes count of another item. We are truly witnessing greatness."

Howard circled his neck on his shoulders, "Ok, that's it. Out!" He stood and pushed them out of the small bathroom, the pair giggling all the way. "Make yourselves busy until I'm done!"

Howard slammed the door, and then opened it again, staring the two giggling soldiers down. "When I said get busy I didn't mean… just keep it clean, ok? I don't want to walk out of the bathroom and see any parts that Carter may or may not have." Howard swallowed hard. "That happens, I'll have to throw myself into the Themes."

As the door slammed shut, Peggy couldn't contain the laughter anymore.

When Howard emerged from the bathroom he found Steve and Peggy sitting fairly demurely on the couch, smiling and talking quietly, her legs draped across his. "Which ones are missing?" Steve asked as soon as he saw the dour expression on Howard's face.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he sat across from them. "None."

Peggy swung her legs around to sit properly, more than a little concerned. "Then why is your mustache so sad?"

He tossed a picture to her: just a small sphere with one button. "I need you to steal that one back for me."

Peggy looked at the picture carefully before passing it back to Steve. "You only want one of them?"

He nodded, his hands fiddling together. "Just that one: the Blitzkrieg Button. It's the only one that's active and dangerous."

"How active," Steve asked as he put the photo on the table, "and how dangerous?"

Howard's eyes glazed over as he remembered. "London was antsy about Germany dropping bombs on her, so I created the Blitzkrieg Button. You press the button, and you get an instant citywide blackout. The bombers can't see where to unload."

Peggy waited for the other shoe to drop, it sounded like a good, solid invention. "So essentially it's a glorified light switch?"

"That analogy only works if you can turn the lights back on again." Howard stood and began to pace, the energy building up in him. "I couldn't figure out how to turn the lights back on. They went out because the electrical grids were destroyed. If that thing is activated in New York, the whole tri-state area will be plunged into the dark ages for years to come."

Ever the pragmatic one, Steve got right to the point. "So, how do we defuse it?"

"That's the whole reason I'm here. I'm the only one that can turn it off." Howard leaned against the back of the chair. "I didn't want to tell you to look for it, and then have you try to defuse it one your own and black out the east coast, or go nuts because it wasn't there."

Peggy relented, "I certainly would have done the latter."

Howard rounded the small couch, slipped his hand in his bag and pulled out a sphere that looked just like the one in the picture. "This is a mockup. You swap that around with the real thing, no one will be the wiser."

Peggy bounced the mock-up back and forth in her palms, trying to decide what the easiest course of action would be. "I'll figure out a way of telling the technicians what the button does without having them touch it." It seemed simpler to her than breaking in there and stealing the original.

If Howard had been agitated before, he was positively angry now. "Since when has the U.S. Military ever had a weapon that they didn't use? Don't let anyone touch it. I'm already considered a traitor, Peggy. Don't let me be the guy who shut down the greatest city on the planet."

Peggy nearly lost her breath at his insistence. She'd rarely seen him so manic and passionate. She clutched the mock-up carefully. "Best call Mr. Jarvis, then."

Peggy slammed the door to Steve's apartment, both men jumping to their feet as she returned. "What's in the vial, Howard?"

He looked around, caught like a cat in a trap. Still, he could try. "What vial?"

"What is in the vial?" Peggy closed in on him, every inch as intimidating when she was upset as her boyfriend could be.

She backed him into a wall, and he didn't have another move to make, so he shot back. "You opened it. You know how, uh, dangerous that could be?"

Steve hadn't moved an inch, and he didn't need to. He could be menacing from across the room. It didn't matter if Steve had no idea what was going on, he had Peggy's back. "What's in the vial, Howard?"

He held up his hands, physically and mentally giving up. "Okay, you're angry."

Peggy took a slow, calculated breath, stepping back. The calm that took her over was perhaps more frightening than her anger had been. "I'm not angry. I'm just curious. What's in the vial?"

"You know." Howard dropped his head; ashamed he'd lied to his friends.

Steve's voice was the last thing he wanted to hear at the moment. "I don't. Tell me."

Howard looked the man in the eye. "Your blood."

It only took two steps and Peggy hauled off and clobbered him with a right hook that could rival any Howard had ever received, and he'd received more than his fair share. Steve hauled Peggy up by the waist, pulling her away from Howard. "You used me! You lied to me!"

Howard looked up at her, amazed at the blood from his split lip. "You hit me!"

"You don't get to use my reaction to your lies as the reason for your lies." Peggy shrugged out of Steve's arms, huffing as she looked between both men.

Howard stepped away from the wall, afraid there might be a lump forming on the back of his head from when she'd hit him, as well. "Y-yeah, I do. I was protecting you both."

Peggy nearly spat her retort at him, "You were out to protect you."

"I trusted you, Howard." The betrayal in Steve's voice was perhaps more wounding to Howard than Peggy's anger, but he'd known this was a possibility.

Howard shifted enough to fall back into the chair he'd occupied before. "Yeah, I know, and I was wrong. But you have to understand, a kid like me doesn't get to where I'm at–"

"What? Wanted for treason?" Peggy could barely keep the vitriol out of her words, her hands clenching at her sides.

Howard looked up at her, his face as hard as the wall he was slowly erecting around himself. "I grew up on the lower east side. My father sold fruit. My mother sewed shirtwaists for a factory. Let me tell you, you don't get to climb the American ladder without picking up some bad habits on the way. There's a ceiling for certain types of people based on how much money your parents have, your social class, your religion, your sex. And the only way to break through that ceiling sometimes is to lie, so that's my natural instinct... to lie. I shouldn't have lied to you." He slowed, looking down at his hands, the smear of blood from his lip still on his thumb. "For that, trust me, I am truly sorry."

Steve paced a circle, throwing up his hands as he turned back to his friend. "Why did you have my blood in the first place?"

"I was one of the lead scientists on project rebirth." Howard shrugged, he hadn't realized Steve wouldn't have expected this. "11 vials went to the government, 1 vial went to me." Howard looked his friend straight in the eyes. "Long before it was you, Steve, that was written in my contract. I was going to get samples to test no matter who went into that pod."

Peggy sat, rubbing her hands over her face. She didn't know if she should cry or laugh. "Why did I need to steal this back for you?"

"The government's almost through their supply. If they know they have mine, they'll never give it back, even if you clear my name." Howard looked back and forth between the two. "Now that the wars off, there are people who will devote their life to recreating Erskine's formula, to making an army of beefed up knuckle heads all in the name of safety and patriotism." He stood and marched over to Steve, setting his hands on the captain's shoulders. "You saw what happened the Schmidt. You saw those hot heads they wanted to test the serum on. You were an anomaly, my friend. If they start testing again, who knows what will come out of it. It'll be hard enough to keep you out of the labs once word gets out that you're alive. The less samples they have, the better."

"That still doesn't mean that you deserve to have Steve's blood." Peggy's comment was sharp, her eyes boring into him.

Howard backed up, pleading with his friends. "You know, I believe that sample SR-53, that blood, Captain America's blood, holds the key to vaccines, medications, possibly even a cure for the common cold." He took a deep breath and looked at his feet, uncomfortable with looking at Steve's wounded expression. "I also believe that you're a good man, and you don't deserve to live your life in a lab, to be tested like a guinea pig until some pencil pusher is satisfied."

Peggy couldn't look at him, could only look at the knot her hands had become in her lap. She'd slowly closed herself off, easier to be emotionless than give in to the turmoil she felt. "And how many millions of dollars are you set to make by making all of those things off of Steve's blood?"

Howard kicked the side of the couch in frustration. "What the hell do you think of me?"

Peggy stood, her eyes boring into Howard's. "I think you're a man out for his own gain no matter who you're charging. You are constantly finding holes to slither your way into in the hope of finding loose change, only to cry when you're bitten by another snake."

Steve stepped to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Peggy…"

"You're a man who says, 'I love you,' whilst looking over a woman's shoulder into the mirror." She didn't stop, couldn't, as the words came tumbling out of her. Howard had been her friend and she felt horribly betrayed.

"Peggy, enough," Steve pleaded.

"No! Not enough." Peggy looked at her boyfriend, the man that she loved, the man she couldn't even acknowledge was alive, and lost the urge to control anything she was saying. "You dedicated your mind, your body, and you were even ready to give your life to the SSR and to this country, not to Howard's bank account." She turned, tearful eyes meeting Howard's defeated countenance. "I made the same pledge, but I'm not as good as Steve. I forgot my pledge running around for you like a corporate spy. So thank you, Howard, for reminding me about what I aspire to be." Her chin quivered, "For all I know, you did steal your inventions." She tore away from Steve's hand, picking up her purse and heading towards the door.

"Peggy…" Howard's plaintive call of her name only broke her heart more.

"No!" She whirled, hurt and raw for both men to see, "I'll be at The Griffith." She opened the door and was gone with the soft click of the latch closing.

It was Steve that broke the silence first. "God damn it, Howard."

Howard fell back into the chair, his head in his hands. "I fucked up Steve, I get it."

"Damn right, you fucked up." Steve sat on the couch across from the man, thinking hard for a moment. "I get it."

"Get what?" Howard nearly moaned from between his hands.

"I was a poor kid. I get it." Steve leaned back, picking at an imaginary stray thread on the cushion next to him. "You get what you can from where you have to and sometimes you have to weigh out the lies." Steve could feel Howard's eyes on him. "You know how many times I stole food from the back of bakery trucks or fruit stands when people weren't looking and told my mother I'd found it in the trash?"

Steve smiled at the surprise on Howard's face. "What? You think the first time I lied was when I tried to get into the Army five times?" Steve laughed: a hollow, empty sound. "I grew up on the streets of Brooklyn, broke, with a father who died in the first war and a sick mother. Telling lies was how I got through the day." Steve grabbed a pillow, holding it tight against his chest. "'Of course, Miss Applebaum, my mother meant to come to the parent teacher conference, but she got held up at the hospital. Not enough nurses nowadays, you know.'" Steve parroted lies he'd told, his eyes far, far away. "'Why yes, Mr. Green, My mom sent the- oh, I was sure that nickel was in my pocket. Must have lost it on the street somewhere. I'll bring you one next week.'"

"Shit, Steve, I didn't know." Howard scrubbed his hands over his thighs, seeing the man in a new light.

Steve smiled sadly, still a million miles away in his thoughts. "I didn't want anyone to know." He shrugged. "Bucky knew."

"Does Peggy…" Howard didn't finish the question; just let the words fall off, a question never fully asked.

"Some." Steve finally looked up. "I love her, Howard, but she has me on a pedestal that I'm liable to fall off one day."

"You're a better man than you think, Steve." Howard sat back, scrubbing his face. "I never had to lie for my mom or steal food. I had a good family, a good life, it just wasn't enough." He sighed. "She was right about me, and she's right about you, too."

"Maybe," Steve muttered to himself. He looked up, putting the pillow back on the side of the couch. "She'll get over it, Howard. It'll take some time, but she'll understand eventually."

"I hope so," Howard stood, pulling a photo of him in a frilly pink apron from his pocket and handing it to Steve. "It isn't much blackmail, compared to what I did, at least, but it's something I guess."

Steve smiled at the photo, tapping it against his knuckles.

"I never really had… friends… before," Howard confessed, looking at the photo in Steve's hands. "I'm not surprised I screwed it up."

Steve stood, handing the photo back to the man. "Friends means you get a second chance, even when you fuck up."

Peggy turned the radio up, mentally taking note of the rhythm of the tune. She was still angry, a mess of emotions that she couldn't quite sort out just now fueled her; she wasn't sure if she ever would be able to make sense of them. She attacked the wall with gusto, imagining Howard's face, imagining Steve's face as he's held her back, imagining Thompson and his sexist diatribe in each blow. By the time she was able to pull a brick out she was nearly exhausted, but she continued. The small sphere needed to be hidden, from Howard most of all, in case it was ever needed.

He'd struck a cord when he talked about keeping Steve out of labs, about giving him a chance at a normal life, but she didn't want to hear it just then. She didn't want to be reminded of the reason they were sneaking around, of how he'd had to keep clear of certain people and use a fake name for his lease. She wanted to be righteous in her anger, she needed someone to represent the worst of what she'd faced so far, and Howard was the lucky winner.

Peggy thought she might apologize for the shiner… eventually. She might even forgive him for the lies. But as she secured the sphere behind the painting in her room, she knew she wouldn't let her guard down around him ever again.

She checked the lock on the door and turned all her lights off. The darkness under the door was a sign to all the girls in the building: do not disturb.

Peggy slumped on her bed in a heap, slipping her heels off and letting them tumble to the floor with no thought to the fact that she was still dressed. She let the tears fall: tears for anger, tears for frustration, tears for embarrassment and tears for confusion.

When her eyes were well and swollen with the amount she'd rubbed them and her nose was just stuffy enough to cause a problem, she heard an all too familiar creaking.

Her window opened slowly, the head that peaked in brown, familiar, and oh so welcome. "Peg?" he whispered into the near darkness.

She held her hand out to him, knowing he could see clearly in the dim light. She didn't see more than a shadow move toward her, but she felt every inch of him as Steve wound himself around her in the bed. She didn't often give in to the impulse to let go and break down. The last time had been when she'd lost Steve. Having him here, holding her together as she fell apart and whispering soft affirmations in her hair, was enough to give her some hope that the fight may have been worth something after all.

It was far easier than anyone would have suspected to shimmy up and down the drainpipe at The Griffith. Miriam Fry was a creature of habit, and it had only taken Steve a day to figure out when she'd be on the other side of the hotel, unable to see or hear him as he went up and down the side of the building. Steve descended at the first rays of dawn, softly setting himself on the concrete. The street was still mostly asleep except for a pharmacy that advertised extended hours on his window across the street.

He was done with hiding. He was done with watching Peggy try to be strong enough for a whole battalion of men. He was done with feeling helpless.

The bell on the pharmacy door jingled happily as he entered, the only customer for an elderly druggist behind the counter.

"Can I help you, sir?" The man smiled at him, and Steve felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

"Yes," he replied, smiling back, "I need a razor, some shaving cream, and a bottle of peroxide."

He was done with brown.


	6. Back In The Field

Chapter 6: Back In The Field (The Iron Ceiling)

Summary: Steve doesn't trust anyone to watch Peggy's back, especially Thompson.

AN: I love this show. I forgot how much I really freaking love this show.

Steve had just finished lathering up his beard when the phone rang. He grabbed a towel and ran for the living room. It was a luxury to have a phone in his home, but the SSR wanted to be able to contact him at any moment, especially since he wasn't supposed to leave the damn place.

"Hello?" He asked hurriedly, wiping the last of the foam from his hand, trying to carefully keep the receiver away from his face.

"I'm headed to Poland within the hour." Peggy's voice was strong through the phone line. There was a hint of happiness, maybe, in there.

"Poland?" Steve asked, his brow furrowing tightly.

"Long story, but they're finally giving me a shot. At least, Dooly is." She did sound happy, even relieved.

Steve shook his head, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "Peg, I don't like you going out there with just those numbskulls to watch your back."

Her soft laugh wasn't much of a comfort to him. "Neither do I, that's why I've got the 107th. Dugan and the boys are meeting me over there."

Steve sat down hard, bits of foam falling onto his pants. "That makes me feel a little better, but… what are you _doing_ over there?"

"Can't over the phone. I'll see you when I get back."

The line was dead before he could reply or object. He set the phone down hard and looked at the towel in his hands. "Damn it," he sighed, lifting it up to wipe the shaving cream off his face. He'd have to stay this way for at least a few more days. He may trust Dugan and his former team, but he didn't trust any of the others to get Peggy back home safely. No way she was going anywhere without him.

"Howard," Steve stood, looking at the man who was back in the kitchen, back in that silly apron, and attempting some concoction with potatoes.

Howard didn't look away from the bowl he was mixing. "Yeah, buddy? Got breakfast in a jiffy."

The last of the foam would have to be washed out. He had little less than an hour to shower and find a way to make it on that SSR transport. "I'm headed out for a few days. Don't burn the place down, ok?"

"You got it," Howard absently replied. "Grape or strawberry jelly?"

The soldier at the gate looked him over with a close eye. Steve had on the glasses Peggy had given him the other night, and had thrown some shoe polish in his hair to darken it up. He hadn't gotten to the peroxide, but the dye was slowly fading, anyway. He was wearing a stolen pair of coveralls, pulling a dolly with a giant crate on it and doing his best to keep his stare even as he saw Peggy from the corner of his eye on the other side of the tarmac.

"State your purpose?" The solder was all business, just a guy doing his job. Steve hoped he wouldn't get the man in too much trouble.

He tipped his head at the crate he was hauling. "Last minute supplies."

The soldier looked at the blank crate. There hadn't been time to doctor up any kind of stamps or labeling, so Steve had gone with blank. "On whose orders?"

"Dooley." Steve shrugged. "Chief sent me out to bring this down asap- something about last minute supplies from the eggheads in the lab."

The soldier looked him up and down. "Paperwork?"

Steve did the best he could to look like a bashful kid on his first day. "Chief Dooley didn't want to miss take off just to fill out some paperwork, he said if you wanted you could call to verify you could."

The soldier pulled open the top of the crate, sticking his hand in the filling and looking at the cases. "Yeah, go ahead."

Steve screwed his face up, trying to seem nervous for a far different reason. "You don't want to verify? I- I can wait, I think…."

The soldier shook his head. "No, go on ahead."

Steve nodded and pulled the crate through the gate, heading to the back of the plane. That poor soldier was really going to get himself in trouble. Steve looked around, thankful that the team was still busy outside at the front of the plane. He went around the back, pushing the crate through the giant access ramp. Once inside he strapped the dolly to the wall, tied the crate down, and slipped inside the wooden box.

"Thanks, Carter, but I already have a mother. What I need right now are soldiers."

Steve was going to punch Thompson and he wasn't going to feel bad about it.

Peggy Carter was the best soldier that man would ever meet.

Steve's crate was unloaded at an airfield in Poland, farther away then he had hoped from the drop site. He waited until the crate was settled quietly in a holding area before slipping out. The military blacks and heavy boots weren't quite the uniform he preferred, but they would do to keep him hidden. He pulled a box from the bottom of the crate, crouching low as he pulled out two side arms and slipped them into holsters.

He hadn't brought his shield. No way he would be able to hide with those bright colors.

Steve only felt a little sorry when he hotwired the motorcycle. He promised himself he'd leave it in one peace somewhere they'd find it.

Peggy wanted to tell Dugan about Steve. She wanted to tell him that his old friend was at home in Brooklyn, worrying his head off about her, and absolutely alive and well. She thought about it more than once. They were alone in the back of the truck, and the motor would keep anyone in front from hearing, but it didn't seem right. Not yet.

She used to be fun. She used to not mind keeping secrets because as a spy there were the secrets that needed to be kept.

Peggy was starting to hate what she'd become.

Steve caught up with them at their camp for the night. Hearing Dugan and Peggy joking around the fire with the boys about yetis… it felt like coming home.

He wanted nothing more than to walk into camp and sit next to Peggy, to pass the bottle around and say hello to his old friends.

Instead he found a low tree and climbed up. It wasn't easy, hiding in this kind of area, but he'd done it before and would again. He stayed up, listening to the banter, the stories. He fashioned replies in his head and took note of the things he'd want to know more about when the time came to let his friends know he was alive.

When Thompson told his story, Steve's hatred of the man faltered, but only for a moment. There was something wrong about the way he told it, something that still didn't sit right with Steve.

He watched Peggy sleep as the night crept on, and only closed his eyes to nap when Dugan finally took watch.

Steve followed them though the woods, careful to only step when they stepped, to stay in the shadows and far out of sight. It helped that the SSR men didn't seem to actually be looking for anyone around them, and that he'd worked with the men he was trying to evade. Every once in a while he caught Dugan or Peggy looking out, stopping and listening for a sound that he'd made by accident, but they always moved on. When they arrived at the building he crouched in the shadows, listening as Thompson explained his plan.

His dumb plan. Steve smirked as all the men from the 107th looked right at Peggy without hesitation.

She didn't flinch, but didn't relent. "Agent Thompson's lead."

"You got a better idea? Let's hear it." Steve couldn't see Thompson's face, but he imagined the man's expression was less than gracious.

"Four teams of two is faster. Two teams of four is safer. Discretion seems to be the order of the day. We don't know what we're walking into." Steve smiled, That was his Peggy, always the fastest mind in the group, and not afraid to say anything, though Steve was sure that Dugan would have spoken up before they headed out.

Steve would have given anything to see Thompson's face. "Okay. You four. Happy Sam, Pinkerton, Ramirez, you're with me. Good? Aces."

Steve ticked another point against Thompson. He wasn't a tactical leader. Maybe he could lead, maybe he was a good agent, but he wasn't the man for this job. No wonder Peggy had been so insistent.

Steve slinked off, making his way into the building. He stayed two rooms behind, slipping silently from corner to corner, taking out guards with sleeper holds and hiding them as he went. He didn't want the tactical team to know he was here unless they needed him. He didn't want Peggy to think he didn't trust her, or to see the betrayal on Dugan's face if he didn't think he trusted him, either, but he wanted his best girl home in one piece more.

The girl by herself, the one jail cell left unguarded…he knew in his gut it was a trap, but it was already too late. He stopped trying to be stealthy when things went bad. He cut through halls and took out guards with swift punches. Dugan was well on his way to making them a viable exit, so he followed Peggy.

The two side arms he had emptied too fast once the firing started. The only way he knew Peggy was alive by the way she was yelling at Thompson to do something.

Dugan's yell meant it was almost over. "Peggy, go, go!"

She shouted back as Steve took out another soldier. "You go!" His girl was pig headed and stubborn, that was for sure.

"What would Cap say if I left his best girl behind?" Dugan asked, urgency in his voice.

"He'd say, 'get my damn girl out of there,'" Steve muttered, ducking a punch and landing his elbow in a Russian's solar plexus.

"He would say, 'Do as Peggy says,'" his best girl shouted as she laid down more cover fire.

Steve took out one last Russian before taking out the window in front of him with the man's gun. "I guess I say that a lot, too." He grunted as he forced himself through, rolling to the ground and sliding under the truck to tuck himself into the undercarriage just as Peggy was pulled into the bed.

Steve had been able to fit himself in a storage compartment on the SSR plane back to the states. It was slightly nicer than the transport they'd used before, but the nicer cabin meant the storage compartment in the belly wasn't as airtight. He shivered, huddling next to the plan's wheel, just barely able to make out the conversation above him.

Peggy was an angel, attempting to see the best in Thompson as he fed her some sob story about shooting refugees. Steve shook his head and placed it in his folded arms. That man received the Navy Cross through lies, he let himself be lifted up on the basis of nothing and had the gall to act as if he were better than Peggy?

Steve might not be the honest man that Peggy liked to imagine him, but what Thompson did was low on anyone's moral scale.

The man absolutely deserved a punch.

Steve was sitting on her bed when Peggy returned to The Griffith, the light making him squint when she switched it on.

Peggy closed and latched the door behind her. "Care to tell me why you're sitting in the dark?" She dropped her purse on her dressing table, setting her coat over it.

He may have not been home while she was over there, but the words weren't a lie. "I was worried about you." Her day ended promptly at 5, and he'd expected to hear from her over an hour ago.

Peggy moved in between his open knees, setting her self down on his thigh as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I can take care of myself, you know."

He kissed her softly, trying not to think about the glimpse he'd gotten into how the men in the SSR treated her here. "I know. You were probably the best one out there."

She smiled, sliding her hand over his beard, letting her nails play gently in the short hairs there. "Well, Dugan gave me a run for my money."

Steve dropped a soft kiss behind her ear, sweeping her hair off her neck. "I'm not surprised." He pulled back, the acrid scent wafting from her hair to his nostrils. "You smell like smoke."

She nodded. "I was at the bar that the SSR guys go to downtown. Thompson bought me a drink."

"He bought you a drink?" Steve leaned back, looking her in the eyes. "As in…?"

She smacked his arm playfully. "No, you dolt." She twisted so she could look at him better. "As a thank you. The mission went well- not as good as it could have, but… I think they're finally starting to respect me, Steve."

Steve didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her that he could see it a mile away: it wasn't respect, it was some pitying placation that Thompson was going to use to make her feel like she contributed before he put her right back to getting coffee and sandwiches. When Steve looked at her smile, though, at the hopeful expression she had at the thought of finally being seen for who she really was and not her gender, he didn't have the heart to take that away from her. "I hope so, Peg," he relented, not really addressing what she said and trying to ignore the feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Peggy with Thompson at a bar.

"It was one drink, and nothing more." She stood, searching his dour expression. "There's only one man I want to dance with, Steve, and that's you."

He grabbed her hand and held it, looking up at her with a sad smile. "I know, I-" He sighed. "I can't even take you out. This isn't what I thought it'd be like when we got home, you know?" He stood, wrapping her into a simple slow dance hold and swaying lightly, even without any music. "I owe you a dance someplace that actually has a band."

"We'll get there," she looked up, sincere and happy, happier than he'd seen her in weeks. "Things are looking up, I think."

He leaned his forehead against hers, "Mmm, they always look up when I have you in my arms."

Peggy pulled back, looking at him from head to toe. "You've come a long way from that man who could barely talk to me in the back of the taxi." Peggy dropped his hands, unbuttoning her suit jacket and turning toward the bathroom. "I think it's time I get the stink of that bar off me."

She leaned against the door to the bathroom, tossing her jacket on the bed, a sultry smile blooming on her face. "Are you coming?"

"To the shower?" Steve's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline he raised them so fast.

Peggy nodded, licking her lips. "I've got this spot on my back that's very hard to reach…"

Steve was behind her like a shot, closing the door tight. "I think I can help you with that."


	7. Now More Than Ever

Chapter 7: Now More Than Ever (A Sin to Err)

Summary: In the calm before the storm, Steve decides he's had enough hiding.

AN: blackbatpurplecat suggested "Lunch at Angie's Diner" This is breakfast, but hopefully close enough. An Anon also suggested Mrs. Fry Judging Steve. Here you go, guys: Steve in the episode where the shit hits the fan.

Steve was half tempted to set up rock climbing rigging outside of Peggy's window at The Griffith. It wasn't that the drainpipe climb was any harder than any other wall he'd climbed; he was just getting sick of doing it. He set himself down on the cement gently, straightening his shirt and trousers. Steve wasn't exactly as put together as he'd want to be for breakfast out, but he was eager to hear what Jarvis had heard from Howard.

Steve started at a slow pace toward the corner, knowing it would take Peggy a few minutes to get down to the lobby. She'd been the one that had suggested it: breakfast out, meet Angie, exist in the real for slightly longer than it took to get from one of their homes to the other. He still couldn't quite get over the idea of Peggy out with Thompson for a 'friendly co-worker drink' and lamented his inability to really date her while the highest ranks of the SSR tried to keep him locked up in Brooklyn.

He was done with it. Today he was going to go back to Brooklyn and by the end of the day he'd see the face he was used to in the mirror again. He rounded the corner and took in the front of The Griffith. If he weren't so eager to see Peggy as much as he could he would think this might be a good place for her. Fry was a vigilant watchdog and according to Peggy, Steve had been the only man to successfully enter the Griffith more than twice before being discovered. The woman was through, and only bested by one of the top soldiers in the world, which meant it was at least relatively safe.

He walked through the front door and smiled at the proprietor. Mrs. Fry was the only one there, sorting papers behind a glass windowed desk. "Good morning," she chirped, "Can I help you, sir?"

Steve smiled at her. He'd seen her many times, but this was the first time she was seeing him. "Good morning. I'm just waiting for one of your tenants."

Mrs. Fry eyed him suspiciously. "May I ask which lady?"

"Ag-" Steve stopped, so used to calling her 'agent' that it had almost tumbled from his lips. "Peggy. Peggy Carter."

Mrs. Fry exited her small booth to come upon him, and for a moment Steve felt like he was back at Fort Lehigh with Phillips inspecting the barracks. She looked him up and down, her eyes vicious. "Young man, if you are interested in courting her…"

Steve swallowed, afraid he might laugh, "Courting?"

Miriam shook her head, he could almost hear her thought of 'young people today' in the way she looked down her nose at him. "Date. If you wish to date her, I suggest you clean yourself up." She pointed to his face. "I don't care what those magazines are saying, beards are havens for germs and are a sign of impropriety, and a well meaning gentleman should always make sure his slacks are pressed."

Her tone left no room for argument. He supposed he should be thankful that this woman was looking out for the ladies in her building with such care, but at the same time he was not comfortable being on this end of her judging eye. "Yes, of course ma'am."

"Miss Carter is a fine young woman, and as such you should put some effort in." She looked him over once more and turned a cold shoulder as Peggy came down the stairs.

"Sorry!" She took a few quick steps, lacing her hand through Steve's proffered arm. "Dottie held me up a bit." She walked out of the door with Steve, eyeing his more perfect than usual posture and the way he held her arm at a respectable distance. "Everything alright?"

Steve held his breath until they were a few buildings away. "That, uh, Mrs. Fry is something."

Peggy laughed, letting her forehead fall to his shoulder for a moment before looking up at him. "What did she say to you?"

Steve paused at the corner, waiting for the light to turn. He pressed his face into the most disapproving look he could muster and tried to make his voice higher, "Why, young man, if you're going to court Miss Carter you need a shave and a set of crisply ironed slacks!"

Peggy laughed, pushing him forward to cross the street. "She did not!"

Steve took a skipping step down the curb, and guided her through the crosswalk. "Well, the words were different, but she did tell me I needed a shave, and pressed slacks." He brushed a hand down the side of his pants. "Might look a little better if they hadn't spent the night crumpled on your floor."

Peggy's lips curled in a sultry expression as she recalled how his pants had gotten there. "I quite like your pants crumpled on my floor."

He nodded, a hum of agreement in his throat. He gently maneuvered her through the burgeoning crowd and down the avenue, looking around in the early morning light. The streets were just beginning to bustle, full of people headed to work, children trying to get one last game in before school, and not one of them looked their way or cared who they were. He stopped them just to the side of a newsstand, the rickety wooden wall giving an illusion of privacy. Steve lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. "I like this, Peg. You and me, outside, no one cares, and we get to just… go."

Peggy too his hand in both of hers, holding it close to her chest. "Soon, darling." She stepped back into motion and tugged him along to the automat that was only a few doors down. "Right now we have more important things to discuss."

They entered the automat and Peggy took him to her usual table, sliding across from him in the booth. Angie was at her side in a second, a sly smile on her face. "English, I thought you didn't have a guy!"

Peggy smiled guiltily at Steve's questioning look, "All I said that 'Mr. Fancy Pants' was not my guy, if you recall."

Steve mouthed the name at Peggy, who returned it with a mimed 'Jarvis.' Steve nodded, but felt his gut twist again with jealousy. Peggy was out and about with both men enough that people had started to wonder, and there he was, sitting in his apartment in Brooklyn, waiting.

Angie slipped her pen into her apron, holding out her hand to Steve as she eyed him closely. "Angie Martinelli. I live in the same building as Peggy."

"I've heard a lot about you," Steve shook her hand briefly, slightly uncomfortable with the woman's interest and energy.

Angie shot Peggy a harsh look, "Funny. Haven't heard a thing about you." The waitress turned her attention back to him, eyes squinting and mind going a mile a minute. "Hey! Did anybody ever tell you that with some blonde hair dye and a fresh shave you'd look just like Captain America?" Peggy sat up straighter, ready to stop the waitress at any second, but Angie just continued. "I saw him once on one of those USO tours." She waited for either of them to make a comment, but was only met with uncomfortable looks. Angie shrugged and smiled. "It's a compliment, you know, he's a very handsome man."

"Thank you," Steve stuttered out, afraid that they'd somehow just blown whatever cover they might have had left, yet somehow almost relieved that the game might be over.

"What did you say your name was again?" Angie was relentless, ignoring the other customers.

Peggy's eyes bulged, her head moving in a barely perceptible shake. He thought fast, "James."

"James, right, well, Peg's a great lady." Angie smiled at both of them before she leaned down, her voice low and menacing. "Be good to her, or I know a guy who knows a guy… get me?"

Steve nodded, impressed with the small woman. "Loud and clear."

"Good!" She popped back up, cheerful. "I better get that guy his coffee before he blows his top. I'll be back in a minute."

Steve watched Angie bounce to the other side of the automat before he leaned across the table. "Did she just threaten to have me killed?"

"I think so…" Peggy eyed her friend, "And I almost want to believe she could do it, too." Peggy handed Steve a menu, opening hers. "So… James?"

"Bucky's real name." He shrugged at her sparked memory and knowing nod. "Couldn't think of anything else."

Peggy put the menu down, crossing her arms over it. "We should have come up with an alias for you long ago, anyway. What's the name they have your apartment under?"

Steve shook his head, leaning over. "I don't know, some made up name… Stan Lee, I think."

Peggy picked at her manicure, thinking for a moment before she wrinkled her nose. "You don't look like a Stan." She rested her head on her hand, looking him over closely. "Well, we could switch it over to James. I'll have to get used to calling you that, I guess. You made it past Angie and Mrs. Fry, I don't see why the rest of the world would recognize you if they won't."

Steve reached across the table, ready to tell her that he'd had enough, when the door jingled and admitted entrance to Mr. Jarvis.

The butler sat behind Peggy, picking up his menu and talking just loud enough for Steve to hear as well. "It may interest you to know that your superior paid me a visit."

Peggy kept her eyes on Steve as she spoke, "Chief Dooley?"

Jarvis flipped his menu, feigning interest in it. "Yes. It seems there may be a change in the prevailing winds within the SSR. Leviathan has certainly sparked their interest, but Howard isn't out of the woods just yet."

Peggy grabbed Steve's hand, play-acting at an intimate conversation. "What did Dooley want?"

"Information on a battle in the German town of Finow," Jarvis continued. "I didn't say anything at the time, but Mr. Stark did visit Finow in 1944. He returned... distressed and soon after began construction on his vault."

Steve didn't mind holding Peggy's hand, and didn't have to fake the soft smile that played on his lips when he looked at her. He did, however, still want to be a part of the conversation. When Steve had returned from Poland, Howard was no where to be found and had obviously been gone for a few days. He'd mentioned it to Peggy, but she'd been unconcerned with Howard's whereabouts. "What did Howard have to say about it?"

"I've tried getting messages to him. However, he's been difficult to reach." Jarvis kept flipping through his menu, giving the impression of a man muttering to himself about what to have for breakfast.

Peggy was still unimpressed with the lack of Howard. "Interesting, but that can wait. Russia has been training young women to be undercover operatives, and we both know that Howard's major weakness is..."

"Women." Steve finished the sentence for her.

"And raspberry truffles," Jarvis added.

Steve's eyebrows knit together, "Is that what that was supposed to be in the refrigerator?"

Peggy cringed before she turned her attention back to Jarvis. "I need you to get me a list of all the women that Howard has... entertained in the last year."

"I'm not sure there's enough ink in the whole of New York to complete that request." He flipped the menu one last time

Peggy shook her head and smiled at Steve. "Fine. Just in the last six months, then. Is that possible?"

Jarvis hummed, putting the menu down and signaling Angie. "Oh, yes. I suggest we start with the western hemisphere."

Peggy couldn't hide her cringe. "Oh, please."

Peggy and Steve stood outside the automat, holding hands like teenagers reluctant to part after a date. "I should get to work."

Steve nodded, thinking about kissing her right here in the middle of the street. "You should."

Peggy bit her lower lip, a wide grin on her face. "I'll need my hand back for that."

Steve gently let go, watching her hand as she placed it on her bag. "I guess that'll be alright." He nodded for a moment, wondering if he should tell her his plan. She'd try to talk him out of it, he knew she would. He looked up, trying to hide his determination. "Meet me at my place, after work?"

Peggy nodded, smiling, as she started towards the phone company. "I'll see you later."

Steve waited until she wasn't in sight anymore, then headed back towards the motorcycle he stashed a few streets down. When she came back tonight, he'd have his blonde hair and clean-shaven face back, and he was taking her out to a fancy dinner. No ifs, ands, or buts.

He headed to his apartment, determined now more than ever to take his life back.

Peggy fidgeted in Angie's room, waiting for her to get back. She knew they were out there, just waiting for her. She didn't know where it all went wrong, but it had. Just a few hours ago Peggy had been sure things were looking better: they were going to clear Howard's name without her slinking around in the shadows and her coworkers were finally seeing her value.

Now it was lying in shards at her feet and she didn't have a plan beyond getting to Steve.

Angie slipped back into the room. "No one answered at the number you gave. James must be out." Angie shrugged, walking over to Peggy.

"Dammit," Peggy mumbled, pressing her face into her hands. "Of all the times for him to take a jog!"

"It's ok. I just got off the phone with my brother. He's gonna drop a car off at the Dublin House for you. Should at least get you out of town for a while." Angie put a hand on Peggy's shoulder. "I'll keep trying to call James. Let him know what's up."

Peggy smiled sadly. Steve wasn't going to be happy he missed this call, that was for sure. Her friend's forethought warmed her, though. "Thank you, Angie."

Angie smiled as if Peggy were talking about borrowing the car for a day trip, not as if the SSR were looking for her. "I also told my father to stuff secretary school. I belong on Broadway."

Peggy smiled. She'd missed her chance to be friends with this amazing woman. She would always regret that now. "After the performance I just saw, there's no way you should be doing anything else. You're an amazing actress."

"You're not so bad yourself." Angie smiled sadly. Peggy could see the fear in the young woman's eyes. "Well... I look forward to hearing what this is about someday."

Peggy hugged her, trying to wrap Angie in the warmth of her words and her arms. "Someday. Take care of yourself."

"You, too, English." Peggy didn't look back as she slipped out of Angie's apartment; she only had her sights set on finding a way out.

Steve entered his apartment, arms full. He'd had a busy day since he'd left Peggy. He was done hiding, and that meant taking some time to really embrace being the man that he wanted to be.

He'd stopped at a barbershop for a fresh haircut, so now the style was right even if the color wasn't. He'd taken some time and gotten himself a new suit. Everything he owned now was designed to hide his physique, to downplay the body that science had given him. He'd stopped at a tailor and gotten the pants fitted slightly better than they were off the rack and made sure to ask them to press them when they were done.

He picked up new shoes while he was waiting for the pants. He thought he'd kill some time browsing through an antique store, but ended up buying Peggy a thin silver bracelet that caught his eye in one of the cases.

Pants in hand, he stopped at three different florists until he was able to get a bouquet of Amaryllis, Peggy's favorite flower.

He'd been out most of the day and was exhausted when he finally stumbled into his apartment.

He set the new clothes, shoes, and the box with Peggy's bracelet on the side table, carefully taking the flowers to the kitchen to set them in water. He needed some time for the peroxide to work, and a good close shave, and then he was ready.

As Steve headed into the bathroom to set to work on his hair, he didn't notice that he'd knocked the phone off the hook.


	8. I'm Nothing More Than What You Made Me

Chapter 8: I'm Nothing More Than What You Made Me (Snafu)

Summary: Angie does her best to get in touch with Steve, Steve gets ready for his and Peggy's first "real" date, and Peggy manages to tear everyone in the SSR apart even though she's the one under arrest.

AN: Oh god, this episode. Do yourself a favor and go re-watch this episode. Why Hayley isn't a world-renown, super famous, award-winning actor right now I'll never understand. Trying to add Steve into this while maintaining the plot and not losing some of the most heart-breaking/amazing moments with Peggy was absolutely incredibly difficult. So, I decided to focus more on what Steve was doing and WHY he'd be so late so that the next time you're watching and marveling at Hayley's performance as she wrecks those three guys in the interrogation room, you can also think about Steve in the shower ;)

Angie waited until the lobby of the Griffith was mostly clear before she picked up the phone again.

"Number please," the operator asked cordially.

Angie turned toward the wall, her voice low. "Jessie, it's me."

The operator's demeanor changed drastically. "Angie! Want me to try that number again?"

"Yeah, and make it fast, I need to head back to work soon." Angie smiled as some of the girls from the second floor passed her while she waited for her friend to connect the line.

"Don't know what to tell you, Angie. Before there was no answer, now it's open and in use but there's no one on the line when I break in. Phone must be off the hook."

Angie sighed. "Ok, thanks for trying."

Jessie's voice filled with concern. "You in some kinda trouble, Angie? Want me to get the police?"

"No," Angie didn't want to say too much, but she did need the help, "But it's real important that I get in touch with the guy that this number belongs to."

"Look, I owe you one from last New Years Eve…"

Angie laughed, remembering carrying her friend five blocks back to her apartment after she'd had too much to drink. "Yeah you do, lightweight."

"I'll ring the line every time a get a free minute, soon as he answers I'll ring it through to the automat. Sound good?"

Angie sighed in relief. "Not only would we be even, I'd owe _you_ one of you get me in touch with him."

"Ok, what's his name?"

"James." Angie caught Mrs. Fry watching her out of the corner of her eye. "I gotta go. I'll be at L and L by three. You are a life saver."

"No sweat, honey. I'll get him for ya."

Knowing what was coming at her made it slightly easier to stomach, but every word out of those men's mouths still hurt Peggy. She was surprised they hadn't sent Thompson in with his stick yet. At least they still had some moral gumption.

Handcuffed to the table she had no choice but to let them see her face through each word and every insult. Peggy fought to keep calm as her faith in these men crumbled. She had thought, hoped, they'd been building trust in her. She'd had faith that they'd come to see why she'd been one of the premiere Agents in the SSR during the war.

All of that had been for nothing. With each accusation, with each bullying question, they proved to her that they hadn't deserved her loyalty, hadn't even deserved her help. She had thought that even if they didn't like her being around, perhaps they'd respected her.

As Sousa yelled in her face again, the last man she thought would turn on her, Peggy found herself yearning for muddy camps and the stern face of Colonel Phillips. Even when that man yelled at her, she knew he respected her, and that made all the difference.

An errant thought went to Mr. Jarvis every once in a while, hoping he'd gotten away. She thought of Steve, probably sitting in his apartment, waiting anxiously for her. She couldn't believe she'd let herself get caught… it jeopardized everything.

The worst parts, though, were the accusations about Stark romancing and using her. Not only did these men not have any respect for her, somehow they believed she had no respect for herself.

She couldn't keep her mouth shut any longer when Dooly finally made her snap. She knew they were all there, she knew how this worked. "You think you know me, but I've never been more than what each of you has created. To you, I'm the stray kitten, left on your doorstep to be protected. The secretary turned damsel in distress. The girl on the pedestal, transformed into some daft whore. You're behaving like children. What's worse... What's far worse..." She let the anger tumble out, but resolved to not give them anything but what they needed to get out of her face. "Is that this is just shoddy police work. You were inches away from the woman that you want when you loaded me into your car. You should be looking for Dottie Underwood, who by now, I assume, has shed her alias."

Steve kept feeling his cheeks, almost unfamiliar with the sensation of the air hitting his whiskerless face. He was freshly blond and clean-shaven for the first time in almost a year. The shower that he'd just stepped out of felt like some kind of rebirth, a new beginning. He'd never wanted to hide who he was, but he'd also trusted Howard and Peggy's judgment. Perhaps the world hadn't been ready for Captain America when he was found, but Steve Rogers was sure as hell ready for the world now. He headed over to the small table, picking up his packet of clothes, when he noticed the phone had been off the hook. As soon as he put it right it rang.

He stared at it, startled that it had begun to ring so quickly. Slowly he reached out to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Hello," a nasal, high pitched voice greeted, "phone call for James from Angie Martinelli, hold the line please."

Steve sat quickly, dropping his clothes next to him and clutching the towel around his waist. He knew Peggy wouldn't have given the waitress this number unless something was wrong.

"Angie, I told you no calls!" The manager of the L&L Automat held the small blue phone out to the waitress, going red in the face as she entered his office. He was a rotund little man with a receding hairline who had beads of sweat dripping down his face even in the winter, one of Angie's least favorite people. "You want to be some Broadway star, do it on your own time."

Angie took the phone in her hands, looking as forlorn and sad as she could muster. "Oh, I know Mr. Green. It's just that my Nana, she's in the hospital, and I gave my sister the number in case something happened."

The manager's countenance softened as Angie made her chin quiver. "Right, well, just this once."

Angie forced a sad smile. "Thank you, Mr. Green." When the man didn't move, she looked between him and the phone, turning on some tears for show. "Do you think you could maybe just step out? I… I wouldn't want you to see me cry."

Mr. Green turned red and left without a word, as easily manipulated by the mystique of a woman's tears as all the other men she'd ever met.

Angie huffed a deep breath and wiped the fake tears away. "Hello?"

"Angie?" Jessie's voice rang tinny through the line.

"You better have him," She whispered harshly into the handset, "I told my manager my grandmother was dying to get on the phone."

There were a few clicks before Jessie's voice came through the line again. "Go ahead, please."

"James?" Angie whispered, hoping beyond hope it was him on the line.

"Yeah, Angie, it's me," the voice over the line was the same of the man from just this morning, shaken with concern.

She imagined the poor little scruffy thing quaking in his boots. Peggy had insisted he'd be able to help, but just because he had Captain America's jawline didn't mean he'd have the man's bravery. Thank god she'd decided to cover for Darla and take the split shift this morning and afternoon, otherwise she'd never know if she was talking to the right person. Angie sank into her manager's chair. "Where have you been? I have been trying to get in touch with you all day!"

"What's wrong?" He asked desperately, trying to cut to the chase.

"I can't stay on the line, gotta get back to work. Just get down to the L&L as fast as you can." She looked at the door, worried that her manager might have been listening. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "When you get here just say you're my brother-in-law if you can't find me." She let it go even softer. "Peggy's in trouble. Said you'd be able to help. Get here, buddy."

Angie put her hand down on the cradle, ending the call, but brought on the tears, anyway. "Oh, Jessie, thank you so much for calling!" She exaggerated the words, throwing in some heavy sniffs for emphasis. "I'll make sure to look for him." She wept a few fake cries, pinching at her cheeks to redden them, "I love you too, sis!"

She made the handset hit the cradle with just a little more force than necessary, and her manager was in the room in a flash. He didn't even have the decency to look bashful for listening. He turned away, awkwardly fidgeting when he saw her sobbing at his desk. "Angie… is, uh… everything alright?"

Angie stood, pulling her apron up to dab at her eyes. "Oh, yes, they think she's getting better, but Nana, she gave them a big scare this evening. I- oh!" Angie wailed, leaning on her manager's shoulder for a second. "My br- br- brother-in-law might c-come to give me an up-update." She stuttered the words out against his chest.

He pushed her back at arms length, unsure of how to handle the girl. "Why… why don't you take an extra break tonight. One now, one when he gets here, alright?"

She sniffed, making her way out of the room and heading towards the ladies room. "Thank- thank you Mr. Green." She sniffled until the door shut, taking a deep breath and composing herself with the blink of an eye as soon as the lock slid home. "And that's why I'll be famous one day."

"Didn't take you long to clean out your desk." Jarvis looked at the small cardboard box Peggy put down on the table. "Your personal belongings? Two notebooks and a file."

Peggy picked up the file, looking at hit for a long second before dropping it on the table. It was the file on Project Rebirth; she'd been thinking about stealing it, but didn't think in the end that would be the best idea. "This one belongs to the Agency, actually."

She could feel the nervous energy flowing off the man next to her. "I am truly sorry about all of this. When you didn't meet me, I knew something was wrong and I panicked."

Peggy took a deep breath. She knew what she was to these men, even to Jarvis, and she knew what it would take on paper for Dooley to let her out of this. "And I suppose the confession portrays me as what? A patsy? A doe-eyed idiot succumbed to the charms of America's mustachioed Casanova?"

Jarvis at least had the wherewithal to pretend to be sorry about it. "That is the gist, yes... With a bankruptcy side plot sprinkled on top to provide a motive for Mr. Stark's deeds."

"Nice flourish." She couldn't look at him, couldn't see the pity in his eyes.

He kept talking, oblivious to Peggy's need for some silence. "I hope you'll forgive me one day."

"There's nothing to forgive." At least, she didn't think so. He hadn't purposefully done her wrong. He was doing what he thought was best, even if he didn't have a clear thought as to what that would do to her. At least he was trying. She was starting to get worried: Angie should have gotten in touch with Steve by now. If she hadn't, something was terribly wrong, and if she had and he wasn't going to come, then there was nothing left to fight for. "You panicked and called for backup. It wasn't your line, and you were trying to help me. And Howard stepping up to this confession... I wouldn't have thought he had the nobility in him."

"Yes... About that confession..."

That was all she needed, though she hadn't believed it could get worse, she knew it was just about to all fall to pieces. "Did Howard write that confession, Mr. Jarvis?"

"He did not." The stuttered confession left her feeling empty.

"Did you... write that confession, Mr. Jarvis?" As she asked her question she watched him very closely. She'd given away that she knew one of his tells, that didn't mean he didn't have others.

He was still and calm as he spoke, a sure sign of the truth. "I did."

"Oh, flipping hell!" Just like that, everything was worse. A signed confession could be fought over in court, a deal could be made. Forging documents? Taking part in a conspiracy? Now they really were in trouble.

Jarvis' voice started going a mile a minute, not that Peggy care to hear any of it. "I called for help many times. Mr. Stark never answered; neither did Mr. Ro-" Peggy held up a hand, knowing what he was going to say. She shook her head at him very slowly, an icy stare in her eyes. They didn't know, they were most assuredly listening, don't tell them now. Jarvis nodded, some of the fire gone from his confession. "I-I left countless messages... nothing. So then I panicked and panicked again and put my own particular skills to use..."

Peggy couldn't believe he'd be so foolish. "Oh, for the love of God, man!"

"As I said, panic was involved. I thought it would buy us time. We were closing in on the real culprit. I hoped that with a few more hours, we would be able to prove Mr. Stark's innocence and your competence." Jarvis sat down at the table, looking at his hands as they attempted to make something from nothing as he spoke, as if he could wave them and all their problems would be fixed.

Peggy whirled on him, her anger diffused to frustration. "And when Howard doesn't land in Teterboro, we shall both disappear."

Jarvis gulped audibly. "Disappear?"

Peggy waltz to the windowsill, unsure if she was just trying to scare the man or if she was at the beginning of accepting her fate. "Until our trials, most likely followed by a decidedly severe punishment. Have you ever been hanged, Mr. Jarvis?"

His voice was small behind her. "I can't say that I have, no."

She looked out into the city, wondering what had happened, where it had all gone wrong, and why in the world Steve wasn't answering his phone. "It is quite unpleasant." As she stared at the building across the street a glint of light caught her eye. Just two short flashes. It was enough to make her turn, and in turning she saw Dr. Ivchenko, a man who the Chief had given incredible privileges to, tapping in rhythm on the window sill.

Angie wasn't facing the door when he entered the diner, but she knew the exact second that his motorcycle pulled in front of the diner because the murmurs started. When he walked through the door, everyone went silent.

"I'm looking for Angie Martinelli." He didn't yell, but his voice echoed through the diner anyway. It was the same voice from this morning, but stronger, more confident, somehow different…

She turned from the coffee maker, already trying to bring forth tears and expecting the scruffy looking brunette from breakfast that had the same jaw line as Captain America. Instead of just the jaw line, she got the entire fabled hero, wearing a pressed shirt and ironed slacks with a harness and his shield strapped to his back, standing right across from her. "Good going, English," slipped out of her mouth before she even noticed she was talking.

"You said she was in trouble." James- really Steve "Captain America" Rogers that she'd seen in Passaic at the USO show- was standing in front of her, dressed like he was ready to go on a date with the exception of that red, white and blue shield slung on his back, scared to death about Peggy.

Angie nodded, finally finding her wits. "Come on," She rounded the counter, taking ahold of his arm and pulling him toward the back door, the coffee cup from in her hand splashing as she put it down on the counter.

"That's not your brother-in-law!" Mr. Green shouted behind them.

Angie turned as she pushed Steve out the door. "Yeah? And that girl who comes in to 'do the books' every Friday night ain't your wife!" She slammed the door behind them, leaving them in the quiet of the alley. "Sorry."

Steve surveyed the alley, turning back to Angie with a tight expression on his face. "Angie, what's going on?"

She gulped, looking at him. "You're Captain America." He nodded, and she stammered on. "I mean, aren't you dead?"

Steve took a deep breath, looking squarely at the girl. "It's a long story that we _really_ don't have time for right now."

"And you're the same guy I met this morning? Peggy's guy?" Her eyes were wide, concern and confusion warring within her.

"Yes, Angie," Steve was running out of patience, "and as soon as I know she's safe we'll all sit down and tell you anything you want to know." He put his hands on her shoulders, focusing her attention on his face. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Steve started to say something but she threw up her hands. "She didn't have time to tell me. All I know is there was some sort of fight at the diner just after lunch, she and Fancy Pants got away. But then those suits from the SSR showed up at The Griffith to look for her. I pulled her off that ledge outside our window. She almost got out, but I don't know what happened."

" _Almost_ got out?" He asked, dropping his hands from her shoulders, his fists clenching at his side.

Angie nodded. "One minute she's walking out my door, ready to make a run for it, next thing I know those apes are dragging her into a car and driving away."

Steve nodded, determined and stoic. "Thanks." He pulled the ally door open and marched through the automat, slipping out the front and pulling away on his motorcycle before she could even think to say goodbye.

Angie's manager sidled up to her as she made her way back into the diner, everyone abuzz about the scene. "That was Captain America, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh," Angie nodded, still slightly in shock.

Her manager looked at her with a little disbelief. "You _know_ him."

Seeing her opening, she took it. She smiled brightly at Mr. Green. "Yeah, yeah I do. We're like that." Angie held up her first two fingers, wrapped around one another. "Got a problem?"

Mr. Green shook his head, wheezing a bit. "None at all."

Angie waltzed back to the counter, picking up where she left off and mopping up the coffee she'd spilled. She may have been excited to know that English was dating the best guy in the entire world, but that didn't mean she wasn't worried about her friend. If Peggy was deep in it enough to need the best soldier on the planet, things couldn't be good.

"Chief Dooley, I'd like to make a confession." Carter burst from the conference room, the pad with the Morse translation clutched tight in her hands.

He sighed, tired and overwrought. "I already got the confession I need."

"It's a fake." Her words were harried, her eyes darting back and forth to Dooley's office.

"One second, please hold."

"You know Joanie, they'll let anyone on that elevator anymore, I swear!" Marjorie flipped a few switches, setting phone lines to the right places through the SSR.

Joanie nodded her head while re-routing a call, waiting until her microphone wasn't on the line anymore. "Oh, I know! And they won't let us have a gun, or even a guard in here. It's getting so I'm nervous about coming to work anymore!"

"Oh, hush you," Rose threw in from the end of the line. She pulled her headset down to her neck and turned to the ladies. "I've been doing this longer than any of you, and you'll all be fine. What do you think, they can start checking IDs and patting down people in the middle of the Ad Agency?"

Joanie looked bashful, but continued on anyway, "Well, they could."

Rose just laughed. "You chickadees have a lot to learn."

From the end of the switchboard by the elevators Emma joined the conversation. "They could at least station a look-out down there… Oh, shoot!" She fumbled a few cords, "Afternoon, how may I direct your call?" Emma returned to switching cords, trying to keep one ear on what the girls were saying.

"Yeah!" Marjorie agreed. "That man just waltz in here like he owned the place! Lord knows who will come out of that elevator next!"

As if her words were prophetic, the elevator bell rang, signaling it was opening. All the women quieted and turned, waiting for the doors to open. Even with the buzzing of the panel, they barely moved as a man stepped out and purposefully strode to the end of the switchboard. "Rose?"

"Y-Yes?" The woman stuttered, looking up at what she could only believe was a ghost.

Steve softened at the woman's fear, "Tell Chief Dooley that I'm here for Peggy Carter."

Rose nodded, never taking her eyes off the famed hero as she slipped her headset back on. "Of course… one second, please."

Dooley stared at Carter, disbelief raging in his eyes. She hated this, she hated letting everything fall apart and having to flay herself open for these people. No one was going to rescue her, though, so it was necessary. "I got away with it because no one looks at me, because unless I have your reports, your coffee, or your lunch, I'm invisible."

Agent White swung the door to the conference room open wide, face pale and nervous. Dooley hit the table with his fist, "White! I told you, not to-"

His voice was shaky, "Chief, Rose just called… there's someone on their way in here for Peggy."

Dooly shook his head, knowing the man he wanted wasn't likely on the other side of the elevator. "Stark?"

"No…" White just looked between Dooly and Peggy, turning his head back out to the office when he heard everyone quiet down.

Thompson stood, catching sight of blonde hair as the agents in the bullpen stood. He assumed they were on guard with a stranger just tromping around, as they should have been. "What, you got another boyfriend popping in here with some fake alibi?"

Peggy stood, a small smile coming to her face as she moved toward the door.

Jarvis stood as well, letting out a relieved sigh as the man finally came into view. "I believe that would be her only boyfriend there, Agent Thompson, despite what you all seem to think."

Steve Rogers took up the whole doorway as White backed himself back into the outer office. He was a sight, jaw set and on alert, arms wide and ready to fly into action at a moment's notice, and the iconic shield slung on his back.

"Oh… my… god…" Dooly stood, staring at the man in disbelief, his gaze bouncing between the face he'd come to know so well from newsreels and the gleaming shield on his back.

Thompson took a step back, his voice merely a whisper. "No fucking way…"

Sousa smacked Thompson across the shoulder, standing because he didn't know what else to do. He was the only one who addressed him, "Captain Rogers, sir."

Steve assessed the three men quickly, writing them off. With a quick nod to Jarvis his attention went right to Peggy. He held a cautious hand out to her. "Are you ok?"

"Fine," she said softly, a little overwhelmed by the entrance he made. She wished she could fling herself into his arms, but knew that was going to do little for them at the moment. She settled for taking his hand. "You're late."

Steve shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Long story."

"Carter!" Dooley's voice turned her, the man's face nearly red. "Is this what… what I think it is?"

Peggy smiled a wicked grin, pulling Steve into the room and shutting the door behind her. "Chief Dooley, Agent Sousa, Agent Thomson, I'd like to introduce you to Captain Steve Rogers."

Thompson sat heavily in his chair, felling like a kid caught playing tricks on the playground. "Well, shit."

"Quit swearing, there's a lady present!" Everyone ignored Sousa's whisper to Thompson.

Dooley held out his hand. "Captain Rogers, an honor, sir."

Steve took his time, looking at the man. He slowly reached forward, shaking the Chief's hand. "You can understand my reluctance to be friendly, Chief Dooley."

The man almost laughed, "You understand our reluctance to believe you're alive." Dooley smoothed his tie, not wanting to look in Steve's eyes. "This is a serious matter, son, your girlfriend there…"

"Stop." Steve's command was harsh, and all three men in the room knew an order when they heard one. They looked at him, waiting for orders in a reaction that had been drilled into them during long months and years of service. "Any relationship that exists between myself and Agent Carter has nothing to do with the fact that she's an exemplary Agent who has more field experience than the three of you put together."

Peggy bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling, Steve sounded quite like Phillips for a moment, and it warmed her heart.

"That may be, but it doesn't change the fact that she went behind our backs and that good men are dead…" Thompson stood, unafraid.

Steve dropped Peggy's hand, rounding the table to look Thompson up and down. "She went behind your backs? Really?" Steve dropped his voice, not quite a whisper, but a deadly low tone. "How many times did you brush her off, leave her to answer phones, instead of asking if she had any ideas? Relegated her to pick up your lunches because she's female?" Steve looked down his nose at all three men. "She's always been behind your backs because you've never let her work at your side."

The men were quiet for a moment, Sousa and Dooley's faces falling, but Thompson couldn't let it go. "She might not have told you everything…"

"She tells me everything," Steve spat, stepping away from the man, his hands itching to land a punch across his jaw. "Let's go," he started to guide Peggy towards the door.

"We can't just let her go because you show up and vouch for her, Captain Rogers." Dooley's tone garnered no nonsense; he still had a job to do.

"Even if I wanted to, we can't go yet," Peggy turned to Steve. "That man," she pointed towards Dooley's office, "is plotting. He's dangerous, we have to figure out what he's up to."

Steve looked up from Peggy's gaze, then back to Dooley. "Well?"

Dooley looked at the small congregation of men that had been watching the exchange through the conference room windows. Every step he took now would have to be a careful one, they were all looking at him and he knew they'd never understand if he didn't at least listen to Rogers.

"Sousa, Thompson, take a team and checkout that building." He waved them out of the room with a hand. "I'll baby-sit the Doctor. The three of you…" He swallowed, unsure of trying to give orders to the one and only Captain America, "Stay here."

Jarvis and Steve both looked to Peggy, waiting for the nod of assent she gave before they settled toward the table. Dooly let out a shaky sigh as he closed the three of them into the conference room, pretending not to notice as the rest of the men scattered back to their workstations.

Peggy took her time, sitting sideways at the table so she could see Dooley and Ivchenko while still looking at Steve. She rested her chin on her palm, hiding her lips from view of the men in the outer office. She knew White knew how to lip-read, and she didn't want to take any chances. "I could kiss you, Steve."

He sat heavily, pulling the shield from his back and placing it on the tale. "We could give them a show," he replied with a wink.

Peggy rolled her eyes playfully. "I already get enough comments about serving _under_ you, doubt that would be the best idea." His outraged glare made her laugh. "What? You think those stopped when the war stopped?" She smiled softly at him and leaned across the table. "How many times did you hear Phillips give his 'Peggy's a better agent than you' speech exactly?"

Steve tugged at his ear, bashful. "Probably twenty-five or thirty?"

Peggy let one small puff of laughter escape her lips. "So is all that," she pointed toward his hair and clean-shaven chin, "what took you so long to get here?"

"Like it?" Steve ran a self-conscious hand through his hair when Peggy wagged her eyebrows at him. "Didn't realize the phone was off the hook until about a half hour ago." He shrugged, seriousness squaring his shoulders. "As soon as Angie got in touch with me I got over here."

Peggy ran a finger around the edge of his shield, "And this?"

"Didn't know what I was coming into." He leaned back, letting his hands fall to his lap. "You're lucky I left my gun at home."

Peggy turned her head, eyeing Dooley and Ivchenko. "We'll see about that, we're still in some hot water."

Steve looked down, wringing his hands. They were silent for a moment before he spoke. "Peg, I should tell you..."

"That you came with us to Russia?" She looked at him straight on, her gaze unflinching. "I know that."

"How?" He wondered, leaning forward.

Peggy met his posture, placing her head in her hands. "You're not the stealthiest, you know. I spotted you as soon as we broke camp that morning. I assume you caught up with us in the forest that night?"

He nodded. "I just couldn't…"

"I would have done the same," she whispered, letting her hand fall on his for a second. She sat up tall, leaning back. "It's the only reason I was looking for you. Dugan got a glimpse of you too, though." She shrugged, a small smile peaking out of her lips. "You owe him an explanation… and a bottle of good bourbon. He's quite cross with you."

Jarvis sighed, "I hate to break up a reunion, but something's going on."

Dooley stuck his head into the room just as they turned. "With me, now," he ordered quietly. Steve slipped the shield on his back as Jarvis and Peggy stood.

"What's happened?" Peggy asked him.

The chief avoided her gaze. "We can't talk here. There's ears everywhere."

"Have we been compromised?" Steve was concerned as Dooley led them out of the conference room and down the hall to the interrogation room. He waited until the door was closed. "Did they find something across the street?"

"Stay quiet!" Dooley said, leaving and shutting the door.

Jarvis looked at Steve and Peggy, utterly confused. "What the hell was that about?"

There was a soft snap that sent Steve rushing for the door. He pulled and twisted, but the door wasn't moving. "He's locked us in."

"Why the hell would he do that?" Peggy ran over, taking Steve's place and trying the door.

"Because he's not on our side," Jarvis sad sadly, sitting on the table. "Why else would he sideline Captain America?"

Peggy turned, her back to the door. "Dooley's nothing if sensible. It makes no sense to just _lock_ Captain America in here _with_ his shield."

Jarvis's brows furrowed. "I'm not following."

"Through the door, through the two-way mirror, we're out in thirty seconds or less," Steve shrugged. "I'm good at running through things."

Peggy's looked wistfully at her paramour for a moment before turning back to Jarvis. "Dooley knows that. Anyone in the SSR during the war was briefed on Captain America's tactics incase they ended up in battle with him." She pulled on the door once more for good measure.

Jarvis nodded, "I supposed anyone who saw a newsreel knows that, as well. Your point?"

"If he knows we can get out, why put us in here in the first place?" Steve turned, running a hand over the two-way glass. "It's no more secure than the other room we were in."

"Ivchenko," Peggy murmured, standing up and turning Steve back to her. "Ivchenko made him do it somehow. Maybe…"

"…it's a bluff to get Ivchenko to think he's working with him?" Steve finished, his voice hopeful.

"Either way, we have to get out of here," Peggy looked around, the walls were solid, the door was stuck… there was one exit that would call the least attention to them. She tipped her head at the window and Steve nodded.

Steve slipped the shield from his back and across his arm, holding it toward the mirror as he took a couple steps back. Peggy pulled Jarvis to the back of the room. "I'll break on three. One…two…"

"Wait!" Jarvis called, his hands up in the air. "What if there are people behind this mirror that we're breaking?"

"Then they may get hurt. There will be a spray of glass." Peggy answered tightly before nodding at Steve.

Steve started again. "One…two…"

Jarvis couldn't help himself; he interrupted the countdown again, "What if these hypothetical people behind the mirror have guns?"

Peggy shrugged. "Then we may get hurt. There will be a spray of bullets."

"That's why I'm going first," Steve sighed. "Three!" He counted before Jarvis could stop him again, smashing the shield into the glass with all the forward momentum he could muster. The mirror shattered, raining down on his as he ducked behind the vibranium, his eyes closed and his face hidden in his other arm.

When the room fell silent they all looked up through the hole in the wall to the empty room. "No people, everybody wins," Steve observed, using his shield to clear away the shards from the bottom of the sill.

Peggy pushed the table over from the center of the room, waiting as Steve moved to the side before pushing it against the wall. Steve climbed onto the table and through the newly constructed window, crouching on the table on the other side and placing his shield over the sill. Jarvis helped Peggy onto the table and then helped her sit on the shield; Steve swung her through the window with her legs carefully tucked under her and gently lifted her and set her on the ground.

"Thank goodness I wore slacks today," Peggy muttered as Steve helped Jarvis through.

"Quite fashionable ones, as well," Jarvis noted.

Steve shook his head, about to speak when the door opened and Thompson took in the scene. "What the hell's going on in here?"

Peggy didn't miss a beat. "Where's Chief Dooley?"

"I think he's in his office…" Thompson backed up as the three sprinted from the room. He didn't know much, but he knew when Captain America ran, you ran.

He caught up with them as the men in the office surrounded Peggy at the Chief's locked door. Thompson pushed his way to the front, banging on the jamb. "Chief!"

Dooley sat up, walking to the door as if he was hung over. "You ok?" Thompson asked as everyone got their first look at the contraption strapped to the man.

It was Jarvis' tone that made everyone nervous as the chief exited, a glowing vest strapped to him. "Oh, my god. Very calmly now, everybody stand clear, please." Jarvis pulled Peggy back, pushing her towards Steve as he tried to give the chief a wide berth. "Miss Carter, stand clear. Mr. Thompson, stand back, please."

"He's gone, isn't he?" Dooley asked, still groggy.

"What is that?" Peggy's voice was full of the urgency everyone in the room felt.

"That is the prototype for a new system of armor." Jarvis' words were simple, but they were tight and high-pitched, full of fear.

"How do we get it off him?" Steve let his hands fall on Peggy's shoulders, ready to move her behind him in a heartbeat if anything went wrong.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple." Jarvis stopped Thompson from reaching out, "Please don't touch. It was intended to double as a heat source, for use in the winter months on the European front. Locking the armor ignites a self-sustaining battery."

Thompson shook his head, frustrated and fearful. "But there's always a catch to this stuff, isn't there?" Dooley looked down at himself as if he were realizing, for the first time, that something was wrong.

"I'm afraid the energy source is experimental, powerful, and incredibly flawed. It invariably overheats with rather violent results." Jarvis parroted the words from the memo he once wrote up for Mr. Stark, recalling more than he was saying.

Dooley looked the man in the eye, finally feeling the cobwebs clear from his mind. "How violent?"

Jarvis didn't hesitate. "Explosive."

"Get the scientists!" Peggy's shout erupted a flurry of movement. It happened faster than they'd expected: Thompson ordered the whole floor cleared of anyone who didn't need to be there, and Doobin came in from the lab with a bag full of tools.

"How you feeling, chief?" Thompson asked, feeling awkward at circling the man like he was with the small group, watching as the coils in the vest glowed hotter with each passing second.

"Burning up." The chief leaned against the desk, doing his best to keep the vest from touching his skin. "He got in my head. He made me steal something from the lab. You can't let him talk to you. If he starts talking to you, he got you."

Doobin looked at Mr. Jarvis with pleading eyes. "These clasps..."

The butler shook his head. "They're locked, as I said before. It's what activates the system. Tampering with them trips a circuit to the battery and speeds up the reaction."

"What is this thing made out of?" The scientist asked desperately.

Jarvis was equally as concerned. "It's an alloy of Mr. Stark's creation."

Peggy was shaking; Steve could only feel it because he was standing so close to her. "Can't you cut him out of this thing?" she asked.

Doobin began to stutter with his frustration. "I-I don't think we have the time."

Mr. Jarvis shook his head, wishing they'd grasp what he knew deep down. "Tampering with the circuitry..."

"…speeds up the reaction. I got it." Doobin kept staring at the jacket, hoping a resolution would present itself.

"Let's pack him with ice," Peggy suggested hopefully, "Perhaps we can cool the core."

Steve nodded. "It should at least buy us some time."

Jarvis sighed heavily. "The armor is designed to be impervious to all outside elements, whether it be artillery or temperature."

"Damn you, Howard," Peggy spat, her breath coming in shaky gasps. Steve grasped her hand in his, holding tight when she squeezed.

Doobin gasped as he saw the chief's shirt dissolve away at the shoulder, burns bubbling up. "My god, it's searing his skin."

"It's in the final stages. We're running out of time." Jarvis wanted to say what he needed to say, wanted to tell them they had no choice but to clear the building, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I don't know what to do." Doobin shook his head sadly, his hands fluttering at his sides.

Thompson was having none of it, "What does that mean?"

Doobin was not often stumped. "It means that... I don't know what to do."

Dooley sighed heavily. "I know what to do. Here, give me a hand." He reached out to Thompson and let the man help him stand, swiftly stealing the man's sidearm in the process.

No one drew their weapons, but Steve had his shield over his head and in front of Peggy before she could let out her next breath. She pressed a hand to the rim, lowering it so she could look at the chief as he spoke.

"Tell... Tell my wife..." He didn't like holding the gun on his men, on the woman that had tried to help them, but he knew what he had to do, and it wasn't fair to make anyone else make that choice. "Tell her I'm sorry I missed dinner."

He looked at Peggy, "And you?" he laughed wearily. "Promise me you'll get the son of a bitch who did this." Her nod wasn't enough for him. "Say it!"

"We'll catch them," Peggy got out, shaking even more.

Dooley looked between Peggy and Steve, sighing heavily. "Maybe if I had trusted you, like he does… I'd be making that dinner." Without another thought the chief turned, firing at the window as he ran towards it.

Steve pulled Peggy into his chest, hiding her from the brunt of the blast with his shield, twisting to land on his back when the force of it tossed them to the ground.

She looked up at him as the shaking of the building slowed, her chin quivering. Still covered by his shield, he kissed her head quickly, "I'm sorry," he whispered as she buried her head into his chest, just for a second, doing her best to take a full breath.

He kept her hidden from the world with his shield and didn't move until she pushed away, ready to face the other stunned agents that were slowly standing from the floor.

The room was hushed as Sousa and his men came back, fellow agents helping one another clean the debris and bandage cuts, all still in disbelief.

"I did this." Peggy's voice was flat as she sat on the desk, looking back and forth between Steve and Jarvis. "Ivchenko brought me to him so that I would bring him to the SSR. This is my fault."

Steve shook his head, "Peg, none of us saw this coming."

"Miss Carter, this is not your fault." Jarvis tried to keep calm, but his anger was quick after the day's events. "This is Mr. Stark's bloody inventions."

Understanding quickly dawned in Peggy's eyes as she started to connect the pieces. "You're right. Leviathan tasked Leet Brannis to steal one of those inventions."

"Which one?" Steve asked, hitting the nail on the head. Thompson was listening from across the room, eager to know what Peggy did.

She looked at Steve, eyes wide. "The blood." Peggy was up and out of the room before Thompson could ask her what she was talking about. She stopped only when she came to the lab, standing before the sphere they'd been asking her about. The men followed her into the lab, Sousa, Thompson and the scientists eager to finally understand what she'd protected so fiercely. Peggy held her breath as she pressed the button and waited for the small vile to pop up. She breathed a sigh of relief when the vial was still there and full. She shared a brief glance of reprieve with Steve before she turned to the small group. "We need to find out what Ivchenko took."

Sousa moved first, "Search every crate." The scientists began methodically, looking down rows and in beakers.

"You gonna tell us what that is?" Thompson taunted Peggy as she shut the sphere.

Steve moved between them, taking the sphere from Peggy's hands and slipping it in his pocket as he stared Thompson down. "No."

Doobin was the one who found it. "Item 17. It's gone."

Thompson turned to Jarvis, frustrated, "Alright, what's that do?"

The shake of Jarvis head was small and incredulous, the motion of a surprised man who was very hard to surprise. "I have no idea."


	9. Our Chance to Start Again

Chapter 9: Our Chance to Start Again (Valediction)

Summary: With Captain America around to assist, the SSR moves forward in the investigation, racing to find out the truth before Leviathan strikes in New York.

AN: Thank you to everyone for your wonderful feedback so far! This was another hard episode to work Steve into, and such a critical one at that, so I hope I did it justice. I made up my own backstory for Howard, as the official MCU one is very bare. I also found a way to incorporate one of the most asked for things in this story in a fairly believable way, AKA Steve having a go at Thompson, so I hope you all enjoy.

Also, because of the fact that I expected this to be much shorter and simpler, I decided to work on it and post without a beta. Even though I read through each chapter several times before I post, I'm sure there are still errors. If you spot any, I'd be very appreciative of a PM to fix them. Thank you!

A fidgety detective met them outside of the theater, taking in the small group before his eyes sat on Steve for just a little longer. "You're the SSR folks?"

Thompson pulled the man's attention, glad that Peggy had insisted Steve leave his shield behind. Steve's face was recognizable enough without confirmation that a supposed dead man was following the SSR around town. "What the hell happened here, detective?"

He shook his head, overwhelmed, as Thompson, Steve, Peggy, and Sousa followed him into the theater. "Hell if I know... I got 47 dead, heads bashed in, eyes gouged out... Not a single survivor."

Peggy looked over the scene; white sheets with small red patches where the blood had marred the fabric lay all over the lobby. She hadn't seen so much death since that day in the Hydra base when she lost Steve. "Good lord."

The detective shook his head, his mind back on what he had to do. "It's like some kind of monster got in. Never seen anything like it."

Sousa turned, solemn. "All this happened inside the theater?"

The detective nodded, waving a hand. "This way."

Steve looked around before quickly following Sousa and the detective, eager to get to the bottom of this.

Peggy stayed behind, leaning down to pull the shroud off of one of the dead. Her heart broke as she saw the marks, the scratches and gouges from teeth. Pulling the sheet a little farther, she saw a clump of hair still held tight in the dead man's fist. "No monster killed these people. They killed each other."

Steve stopped short as the detective ushered them into the theater proper. The bodies were mostly outside, but the destruction, the chaos of the theater told a story on it's own that was terrifying. His eyes roamed the room, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to what had happened.

"Guess you G-men catch stuff like this all the time." The detective tried his best to be cold, but there was still horror in the back of his throat, slipping into his words.

Sousa still couldn't hide his surprise. "No. No, we sure don't."

Steve's gaze slowly charted the room until his eyes fell on something that made his heart skip a beat. "Please, no," he whispered as he jogged down the aisle, ignoring Sousa's calls to him. He crouched by an overturned baby carriage, doing his best to slow his harsh breathing and steady his shaking hands. He closed his eyes for a second, steeling himself for what he might find. He gently pressed the carriage away from the side of the seat, sighing in relief as he found it empty. He righted it, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his pounding heart.

"Steve?" Peggy called from the back of the theater, summoned by Sousa. "No!" She gasped when she saw the baby buggy.

Steve stood, turning, "I didn't find a baby." The relief that had flooded him when he hadn't found a child suddenly left him. He hadn't found the child, which meant that it likely had already suffered a horrible fate.

Peggy, as always, had picked up on his thought. Her voice quivered with fear at the thought of that child as she turned to the detective. "Did you find-"

She didn't even need to finish the question. His brows furrowed. "No, no we didn't."

They all looked to one another. Was the baby crawling about somewhere? Had it been saved? Steve dropped to his knees, looking for any sign of a child. He brushed away a soft, pink blanket, revealing a silver canister, Stark's logo emblazoned on it. He turned it in his hands, a new idea forming in his head. "I don't think there was any-" The spray from the canister hit him square in the face. He couldn't help but inhale it, the droplets scratching paths of fire down his throat as he fought for air.

As he coughed, struggling to get a deep breath in, the three other SSR agents rushed to join him, Thompson reaching him first with his long strides. "Steve! What happened, are you ok?"

As soon as Steve looked up and saw Thompson his vision blurred red. Every ounce of hate he had for the man bubbled to the surface. He couldn't think of how, or why, this man was allowed to live, allowed to stand in the presence of Peggy, allowed to pretend to be a hero when he was no more than a coward. Steve grabbed the man by the shoulders, pushing him to the floor with a swift turn. The calls for him to stop by Peggy and Sousa barely registered in his brain. All Steve could think about was how this man stood for everything he hated, how little he deserved to be where he was. He punched him across the jaw with a loud crack that resonated through the theater. Steve bared his teeth as he let his hands close around the man's neck, delighting in seeing the panic on Thompson's face.

Peggy's shouts did nothing to rouse Steve from his rage. She ran to him, wrapping both her arms around one of his and pulling. Without looking at her he lifted his fist, catching her cheek with a blow as he knocked her off of him. Sousa scrambled to help Peggy up, strewn across several seats a few rows back, but she shrugged off his help as Thompson continued to struggle under Steve's wrath.

Peggy grit her teeth and ran, jumping on Steve's back and wrapping her arm tight around his throat. He stood with a yell, trying to throw her off of him, clutching at her arm, but she had her arms locked tight. Soon, he slumped to the ground, fainting from lack of oxygen, and falling half on top of her.

Peggy rolled from under him, panting, as she looked at Steve. "What the hell just happened?"

Thompson rubbed his jaw, sitting. "I don't know, but I sure as hell know why we won the European front now."

Sousa looked down at the spray bottle, kicking it gently, a small spritz of clear liquid saturating the leg of a seat. "Let's get a bag and some gloves in here!"

Peggy sat, watching in the small infirmary as Steve's breathing slowly sped up and he began to move more. He began to cough, waking and sitting until he was pulling against the restraints that tied him to the bed.

Steve looked around as the hacking abated, his eyes resting on his girlfriend as he tugged at his bonds. "Peggy, what's going on?"

She smiled cautiously, "I was about to ask you the same thing. How are you feeling?"

Steve licked his lips clearing his throat and turning his focus inward for a moment. "Like I swallowed a bag of shrapnel." He tugged at his bonds, "What's with this?"

She inched to the edge of the chair, wanting to free him but afraid that he wasn't yet himself. "Do you remember anything that happened inside the movie theater?"

Steve leaned back on his elbows, his brow furrowed. "I was looking for the baby… but there was a canister. Some kind of… spray maybe? Gas?"

Peggy couldn't help herself. She shifted from the chair to Steve's bed, running her hand through his tousled blonde hair. "You found the canister, and you attacked Agent Thompson."

Steve leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as he tried to remember. "I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill... everybody." Steve's eyes popped open, his hand reaching for her cheek but jerking to a stop before it got there because of the restraints. "Oh, God, Peggy. I-I hit you."

Peggy reached over, gently freeing him from the shackles. His hand immediately went to the small bump rising on her cheek, his thumb caressing it as if he could wish it away. "I'm so sorry." He sat as she freed his other wrist, taking her head in his hands and kissing her forehead gently. "I can't believe I hit you."

"You weren't yourself." She snuggled into his embrace for a moment wrapping her arms around him. She pulled back, tipping his head up and checking the slight redness around his neck from his struggling against her arm. "Finally had a use for that move you showed me." She let his head come back so she was looking him in the eyes. "Let's promise to never do that again, alright?"

He gently touched his forehead to hers. "Never," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"In the past already," she affirmed, kissing the tip of his nose with a soft peck. She leaned back, looking at him. "How are you now?"

Steve ran his hand over her jaw once more, letting it slide down the side of her neck and over her shoulder. "I still want to kill Thompson, but no more than usual."

She smiled, hugging him close once more.

"Best the scientists can figure, it's a chemical that induces psychosis upon exposure, to which I can personally attest." The shiner that Thompson was sporting was red and purple, angry and a testament to just how hard Steve had hit the man. Steve cringed when he saw it; Thompson set his jaw in a hard line at the man, but said nothing.

"I'm surprised Howard would consent to manufacturing something like that." Peggy shook her head, joining the conversation without any preamble.

Steve joined in, despite the daggers Thompson was throwing with his eyes. "The amount that got me was tiny."

Sousa looked back and forth from his perch on the side of a desk. "How much of this stuff does Ivchenko have?"

"The lab counted 10 canisters." Thompson held up a sheet of paper before sliding it back in the file, the lab's manifest of Stark's inventions.

Peggy did a small, fairly unscientific calculation in her head. "Meaning Ivchenko has enough to send half the city into a homicidal rage."

"But why?" Sousa asked, standing and perplexed. "Why go to all that trouble?"

Thompson huffed a laugh at the man; the answer was obvious to him. "'Cause he's a Russian jerk with a chip on his shoulder. Why else?"

Steve shook his head. "No, It's got to be something more than that. There are plenty of things you can aerosolize and use to kill people that wouldn't have involved this kind of conspiracy and would have been much easier to make or buy on the black market."

Peggy nodded, continuing Steve's train of thought. "Ivchenko has a plan. He brought us into Russia. He tricked us into bringing him into this country. There's something specific that he is targeting. We just have to find out what it is."

"The target is me." All of the agents whirled at Stark's entrance, most of them drawing their weapons. "Hey!" Stark protested, hands in his pockets and cocky smile on his face.

"Get your hands up. Get your hands up!" Thompson ordered.

Jarvis threw his hands into the air awkwardly, mumbling under his breath, "Told you."

Howard just rolled his eyes. "What kind of welcome is this?"

Thompson approached Stark, ready to lose his cool. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"You know who designed the SSR security system?" Howard asked, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Sousa nodded, taking a step closer. "Yeah, the same outfit that secures the White House."

Howard's nod was rakish and over the top. "Exactly. They stink. You should have hired me." He looked at Peggy, at the frustration bubbling in her eyes as Thompson moved closer to him. "I know. You missed me."

Peggy sighed as Thompson pushed the man forward. "Let's go, get in there." He pointed over Howard's shoulder at the conference room before pushing him and Jarvis gently in that direction. "Carter, Rogers, Sousa, with me. Everyone else back to work!"

Jarvis marched awkwardly, his hands still in the air. "Put those down," Howard whispered at him as they settled at the table. "You're embarrassing me."

Jarvis just sighed as Thompson slammed the door shut, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sorry to have inconvenienced you, sir."

"As of this moment, you're under arrest, Stark." Thompson crossed his arms and looked down at the man.

Stark nodded, heavily. "Jarvis, go get the box we brought with us."

Thompson stopped the man from standing. "You're not going anywhere Mr. Jarvis. Where is it, Stark?"

Stark looked up at the man, unimpressed and curious about the shiner he was sporting. "Second landing down in the stairwell."

"I'll go," Steve volunteered, even though he wanted to hear what was happening. At that moment he was potentially the least important person in that room, and he knew it.

He stepped out as Thompson slammed his hand on the table, leaning into Stark's space. "Roger Dooley is dead. Ray Krzeminski is dead."

Sousa jumped in, falling into their well-worn interrogation personalities. "Along with a theater full of innocent people. Stark Industries... That's all on you."

"I know. That's why I came back." Howard had the decency to look bashful when discussing his foibles, at the very least. Steve opened the door, carrying a cardboard filing box under one arm. Howard pointed at it. "That's everything there is to know about the Battle of Finow."

Thompson leaned in, gritting his teeth as Steve placed the box on the table. "I really don't care about some old war story."

"Well, you should, 'cause all those deaths are on me, too." Howard sighed and stood, pushing past Thompson to open the box. "The gas is called Midnight Oil."

Peggy looked at him, both astonished and sad. "You designed a poison gas, Howard?"

"No!" He looked at her as he held up the file, then let his gaze drop at the disappointment he saw there. "Well, not intentionally." Howard nodded toward Steve. "Project Rebirth wasn't the only contract the US Army had me on." He took a deep breath and began to explain, "The army wanted something that would keep soldiers awake for days at a time, but it failed. Caused symptoms similar to sleep deprivation... Anger, hallucinations, psychosis."

"If you knew all that, why use it in Finow?" Sousa asked, looking of the pages of the files as Stark spread them out on the table.

Howard flipped the empty file shut and dropped it back in the box. "I didn't. My lab was raided." He turned to Peggy and Steve, sadness in his eyes. "They took my samples, my research, all on the orders of General McGinnis." He leaned on the cardboard box, his voice softer, less like them man he portrayed and more like the man Peggy knew was in there. "The next day, they dropped it on the Russians to help them take Finow. I flew there afterward to see with my own eyes. What those men did to each other, you can't imagine."

Sousa flipped over another page, talking as he scanned the data. "We don't need to imagine. We saw it in that theater."

"I got a face full of it," Steve lamented, nodding toward the SSR agent, "gave Thompson that shiner."

Howard looked at Thompson, wide eyed, "And you survived?"

"Barely," Steve answered for Thompson.

"Peggy jumped on his back and put him in a sleeper hold, otherwise I'd be a lot worse off," Thompson mentioned, respect peppering his words for the woman.

Howard looked over at Steve. "It's been known to cause asphyxiation, but you're probably not in danger of that because you'd metabolize it before it could shut down your systems."

Steve scratched at his neck, the soreness was nearly gone, but the itch of regenerating flesh that was far beyond normal human speed was nearly as irritating. "Guess that explains my sore throat."

"It also explains our voiceless friends." Peggy held out a file she'd pulled from Howard's stash, Steve leaning over to read it as she talked. "Someone performed laryngotomy procedures on these men. I expect it was Dr. Ivchenko or, as he's also known, Johann Fennhoff."

"Who?" Stark asked, unfamiliar with the bulk of their side of the investigation.

"A psychiatrist with a specialty in hypnosis." Peggy handed the file to Sousa, who scanned it quickly.

"Must be how they got to Dooley," Thompson mused out loud.

"And if he could control the chief, we're all at risk," Peggy finished.

Stark shook his head, looking at the small group in the room. "No. This time, I'm taking the risk." He pointed at the file, he'd never met that man, hadn't ever seen him, but he was now the enemy. "This Fennhoff obviously wants to punish me, so... let's give him what he wants."

"What are you talking about?" Peggy was curious and cautious, but knew they needed a plan, and fast.

"I'll be the bait. The SSR just needs to set the trap." Peggy watched him in disbelief, unsure if this was the best idea.

Thompson nodded, his mind working. "Yeah. Something public. Real showy."

Howard turned his charm back on, though it was slightly dulled by the gravity of the situation. "Well, that's the only way I do it."

Peggy knocked on the men's locker room door, her hand ready to turn the knob.

"Yeah?" Steve's voice rang out.

She pushed the door open a crack. "You alone in there?"

"Yup," Steve replied. She didn't waste any time, just opened the door and closed it once she was on the other side, sliding the lock home for good measure. Steve's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "What did you have in mind?"

Peggy clicked her tongue against her teeth, rolling her eyes with a smile. "In your dreams," she retorted, walking over to him.

"In my dreams, indeed," Steve responded, watching as she reached out and straightened the tie he'd borrowed from one of the lockers.

Peggy straightened the knot, quiet for a few seconds as she picked imaginary lint off the suit coat he'd also borrowed. "We just haven't had time to talk since you waltzed in here all…" She circled her hand, searching for the words as she looked up at him.

"Blonde?" Steve supplied, a soft smile on his lips. "No, I suppose we haven't."

Peggy took his hand, sitting on the bench and pulling him down beside her. "I tried to talk Howard out of this," she started, her teeth worrying her lip when she couldn't come up with another sentence to follow.

"I'm sure it went about as well as trying to paint a tiger's toe nails." Peggy looked askance at him, so he shrugged and explained. "Something my mother would say when you haven't got a chance in hell of getting your way."

Peggy laughed a bit. "Well, then yes. He's stuck on it. Needs to prove something, I think."

"Of course he does, Peg." He looked at her, running his free hand over her other shoulder. "Look at all he's put everyone through because of this man. I can't say I wouldn't do the same. He needs this to be over and done with, and he needs to be a part of it."

Peggy searched Steve's face. "You identify with him a lot," she mused, "I don't know how that makes me feel."

Steve swung his leg over the bench, straddling it so he could pull her close. "We were both poor kids in the city. You come up with certain ways to cope. No matter what or who you become after that, you still have those instincts."

Peggy sighed into his chest, enjoying the closeness. "I suppose. I just wish he weren't as pig headed about it."

Steve's laugh bounced Peggy lightly. "I haven't met a boy who grew up without a nickel in his pocket yet who didn't turn out to be pig headed." He looked down at her, dropping a soft kiss on her lips. "Myself included."

Peggy reached up, smearing away a smudge of lipstick from his bottom lip with her thumb. "So… the blonde?"

He ran a hand through his hair, shrugging as she sat up, the back of her hand sliding over one smooth cheek. He blushed a bit, "I was sick of hiding. I was sick of not taking you out, and most of all, I was sick of not being me."

She looked at him sadly, gently smoothing some strands that he'd tousled back into place. "What about the labs? What about-"

"I'll deal with them, if, and when, it happens." He took her hands in his, holding tight. "The world may not have been ready for me, but I can't live my life in that apartment, waiting for you to get there, or climbing up and down the side of The Griffith to see you once or twice a week. I can't sneak onto missions because I don't trust Thompson to watch your back. I can't dye my hair every month…" He sighed, laughing at the absurdity of it, "simply because I don't want to. I want to be me, Peggy."

Peggy pulled his hands to her chest, holding tight as a tear filled her eye. "I'm sorry, Steve, I didn't know you hated it that much." She lifted his hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles.

"That's why I did something about it." He gently untangled their hands, cradling her face with his fingers. "Peggy…" He sighed, looking down for a moment then back into her eyes. "You are worth so much more than these men realize. Why do you stay?"

She hummed lightly as she thought, running her hands up his arms. "For the same reason you stayed in that apartment… the world just isn't ready for me yet."

Steve laughed, pulling her to his chest in a tight, happy hug. "That's for sure."

Peggy sighed holding him tight. "I know what you mean, though." She gulped hard. "Phillips was an anomaly. This, here, is what it's like for women in this field." She looked up at him, "I want to change that."

His gaze was full of love and surety. "You will."

Peggy sat back, content for the first time in days. "So, what's with the new clothes?"

Steve stood, swinging his leg back over the bench to stand in front of Peggy. "Well, Mrs. Fry was very clear about having a well pressed pair of pants." He ran his hand over the slacks, wrinkling his nose. "They were pressed when I first put them on." He turned, imitating the models he saw in the department stores.

Peggy's laugh was a welcome sound. "New shirt, new shoes, fresh pair of tailored and pressed pants." Peggy smiled as she stood, a finger at her lip as she teased him, "Are you trying to impress me?"

Steve smiled, tugging on the borrowed tie, his voice wistful. "We had reservations for dinner at a bistro I found by the river. I was going to take you out on a proper date for once."

Peggy swatted his hands away from the tie, instead grasping it herself and using it to pull him closer to her. "That was a wonderful plan." She smoothed the tie down against his chest, noting, not for the first time, how the new clothes showed off his physique rather than hiding it. She leaned up, wrapping her hand around his neck and prompting him to lean forward into her kiss. She kissed him slowly, languidly, thinking about lazy Sunday mornings in bed from a few months ago when their only worry was if they should have eggs or pancakes for breakfast.

Steve pulled back just past her lips, his nose caressing against her cheek. "You sure you only locked that door to talk?"

"Save it for later, Captain Rogers," Peggy whispered against his lips. "When all of this is over, I have a feeling I'll want to spend several days in bed."

He pecked at her lips before stepping back. "Noted, Agent Carter."

Peggy swallowed hard, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "So, borrowed a tie and suit coat, I see," He nodded as she looked around, searching the room for some other finishing touches as she let her tongue click against her teeth. She rounded the lockers, disappearing for a second before reappearing with her hands full. "Here," she said, handing him someone's horned rimmed glasses and setting a fedora that matched his jacket on his head. "No one will notice you now in that crowd of reporters."

"How's that sidearm coming?" He asked, slightly nervous that he wouldn't be bringing his shield with him as he set the glasses straight on his nose.

Peggy sighed. "Sousa will have it for you before we head out." She stepped back, biting her lower lip as she looked at him. "My very own Clark Kent."

"Really?" Steve asked, thinking for a moment at her nod. He grabbed the hat in one hand, the glasses in his other. "Clark Kent," he said before he swiftly removed the accessories and stood akimbo, looking up towards the heavens, "Superman."

Peggy laughed, throwing a hand over her mouth. "Come on," she tried to slow her giggles. "We've got work to do."

Steve laughed, but then considered the pieces in his hands. "No, I mean, do you really think that would work? Like," He stood tall, looking at her, "Captain America," He slipped the glasses back on, the hat atop his head, and slouched, "Steve Rogers."

Peggy leaned over, pecking him on the cheek. "No." She grabbed his hand for a second before backing to the door, slipping the lock open. "Time to get this over with."

Steve pretended to be paying attention to Sousa at the press conference. Thompson was set to do it, but the bruise on his face was deemed unsuitable for photos. Sousa was reciting the speech Howard had written well, but Steve couldn't care less. He kept his eyes moving, pretending to scribble about the crowd and Howard as he searched for anything the least bit out of place. He always kept Peggy in the corner of his eye, knowing where she was at all times. The SSR had done a good job setting it up, but a mission like this was almost guaranteed to go bad.

The weight of the gun in the shoulder holster under the borrowed suit jacket was only somewhat of a comfort to him. As Howard took the podium Steve rechecked the perimeter, an eye to anything that looked out of place.

The gunshot startled him, as it did them all. He pulled his gun from the holster and dove for cover next to Peggy. "Who's got eyes on the shooter?" Thompson's tinny voice came through the radio.

"It's coming from above." Sousa's shout quickly followed as the press and the assembled onlookers tried to scatter.

Steve watched as Thompson and Jarvis hurried Howard toward a back alley, intent on keeping the man alive.

Peggy and Steve pressed against the car, his eyes looking for anyone hurt, or where the bullets were going. "What's he aiming at?"

Peggy stared at the front window again. "Just… just at that window I think." She watched as another piece of the glass chipped with another shot.

She turned, looking over the car, seeing the muzzle fire as another regular shot went off. "They're shooting from the hotel." Peggy announced it through her radio, dropping it as she made an observation meant only for Steve's ears. "And in an even rhythm."

He nodded, holding his gun up. "You caught that, too, huh?" He nodded toward the hotel. "Come on."

They ran across the street as the firing stopped, no more shots at regular intervals, just the chatter of a panicked crowd. They ran past the front desk, up the stars, and counted doors until Peggy slowed at one that was in position to have the right window for the shot she saw. "Should be this one."

Steve pressed her back, nodding off a silent count before he kicked the door in. He cleared the bathroom as Peggy headed right to the window, the rifle rigged with some kind of timer and repetitive motion machine that caught the trigger regularly.

"They're long gone," Steve holstered his gun, stepping to Peggy's side.

"It was rigged to go off on it's own," she told him, leaning into the sight. "And either Dottie's the worst shot I've ever met, or this was never supposed to hit Howard at all. Look."

She stepped back, letting Steve lean over as he pulled off his glasses to peer through the sight. He stood back up, slipping the borrowed glasses in his pocket. "It was a diversion."

Peggy looked at him, her mind ticking away. "But from what?"

Her radio hissed static before Sousa's voice came through loud and clear. "All agents, Stark's been grabbed. APB is being issued. He's in a police car, heading west."

Peggy and Steve sighed, heading out of the hotel. Thompson met them at the entrance. "Send a team up for ballistics," Peggy told him. "There's a gun that was rigged to fire on it's own, but miss Howard completely. It was a diversion for the kidnapping."

Thompson fell into step with them as they headed back toward the police precinct. "I figured as much." He sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "So, now we got to tell the whole world we're chumps. They've been planning this whole thing since the beginning."

Peggy stopped, shaking her head at him. "No, they couldn't have. Could they? Kidnapping Howard couldn't have been part of their original plan. They didn't know he was here until the press conference."

Thompson set his mouth in a tight line, looking at Peggy and Steve. "So if they don't want him dead, what do they want?"

"Howard said Fennhoff wants to punish him." Steve started them forward again as a police car turned on it's siren to clear the street.

Thompson threw up his hands as the sidewalks filled with people, "Whatever they've planned, it must be a fate worse than death."

Peggy sighed, setting back her train of thought. "We need to determine what his next target is."

Steve scratched at his chin, missing the beard that had been there for just half a second. "The movie house was a test. So they've got to be planning something bigger."

"Statue of Liberty?" Thompson suggested. "Empire State?"

Peggy's gaze fell on the crowd around them, small flags and men in uniform all heading in the same direction. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. "What day is it?"

"May 8th." Steve supplied, realization dawning for all three.

Thompson pulled out his radio as they dashed into a run. "V.E. Day."

Peggy finished it, even though they all knew exactly what was happening. "They're going to hit Times Square."

Peggy and Steve sat in the back of Jarvis' car, Sousa and Thompson tailing them as they drove out of the city and towards Howard's secret hanger. They'd made a stop at the SSR, signing out side arms and shotguns while Steve traded his borrowed clothes for his shield. The last rays of sunset were peeking through the windows as they drove.

"Why… why would he do this?" Peggy wondered aloud as she reloaded her clip.

Steve shook his head, his hands fidgeting on his shield. "I told ya, Peg, poor kids have habits. Squirreling things away, keeping them secret- that's par for the course."

She looked sadly over at Steve. "I guess its... hard to imagine him poor."

"I used to have the same problem," Jarvis joined the conversation, his hands tight on the wheel. "Then one day I stumbled on a room that he normally kept locked. I was polishing the brass door knobs and when I went to clean it, it opened."

Peggy leaned back, setting her gun in its holster. "Do I want to know what you found?"

Jarvis caught her eyes in the rearview mirror. "I wasn't expecting what I found, that was for sure." He sighed. "He'd saved things from his childhood. Not just trinkets, mind you. No, the room looked as if he'd taken everything he'd owned, tables built from apple crates and beaten up trunks filled with clothes, and hidden all of it in that room."

Jarvis licked his lips, wondering if he should go on. He knew the story would carry some weight with his friends and decided to continue. "I never asked him about it, but about a month later I found him in that room terribly drunk, rocking in a rocking chair that was about two splinters away from falling apart, holding a woman's dress and talking to it as if it were his mother." Jarvis sighed heavily. "He was asking his mother if she was proud of him, sputtering on and on to the dress he held in his lap."

Jarvis stopped speaking to negotiate a turn, shaking his head. "It was some months later I discovered that his parents had died when he was but a teenager after they'd gotten into a fight and his father had called him a disappointment."

Peggy reached across the seat, taking Steve's hand in hers. "That's awful."

"Sheds some light," Steve muttered.

"If he finds out I told you…" Jarvis started, turning off the main highway.

"He won't," Peggy answered for the both of them.

Jarvis nodded, his eyes on the road ahead. "We're almost there."

Howard's eyes felt heavy, he felt tired and calm as the man spoke to him. "There may still be a way to atone for your sins. Simply focus. Go back in your mind to a time and a place that holds your greatest shame, and simply focus. What would you change if you could?"

 _He was in her room in the small base that the SSR had managed in London. She was crying. Peggy was crying._

 _She was the one woman he truly cared for, the one woman he looked at with respect and admiration, and he'd let her down._

 _"I tried Peggy, but it's just ice up there."_

 _She sobbed into his shoulder, holding tight, as undone as he'd ever seen her. This was the side that no one knew about, the side she never wanted to show anyone. "You have to go back, Howard, please."_

 _"They won't let me," he croaked out. "But as soon as this war is over I'll take my own ship and I'll look."_

 _That man was in her room. He hadn't been there before, but he was here now. "What is your regret?" he asked, his smooth accent lulling Howard away even further._

 _"I didn't find him sooner. After only two days the Army called me back and I let them. I let her fall apart, and then I left her. I just left her to deal with it on her own. I didn't call. I didn't say anything. Not until I found him again." Howard wrapped his arms around Peggy as she cried against his shoulder, ignoring the other man in the room. He patted her hair softly. "She and Steve were the only real friends I had in the world and I let them both down."_

 _The man twirled his ring. "Are you saying… you found Captain America?"_

 _Howard hung his head. "A year later. He was buried in a block of ice so thick we had to build special equipment."_

Fennhoff looked up at his partner over the entranced man, hope falling quickly off his face. "No way even he survived that." She shook her head as the man tuned his focus back to Howard.

 _Howard heard a phone ring, and he reached out to pick up a receiver that had no base. "Hello?"_

 _"Mr. Stark, we found him!" The voice of one of the senior officers he'd had with him on those first few days of the search flooded his ears._

 _Peggy heard it too, sitting up and wiping her tears. "Go get him, Howard," She pressed her hands to his shoulders. "Please bring him home to me."_

They drove up to the runway just in time to see Howard taking off, his plane picking up speed as he turned toward the long tarmac. Steve bolted out of the car, running fast and hard as he tossed his shield on his back.

Peggy's heart leapt into her throat as she ran around the car, knowing exactly what Steve was planning. "Steve, no!" She'd seen the glint of his shield in the distance as he jumped on a plane before. It was the last look at him she thought she'd ever have. She couldn't lose him again.

It didn't stop him, though. He pushed harder, jumping and landing on the wing as the plane picked up speed. Howard didn't look up as Steve made it to the cockpit, pulling at the canopy.

Steve tugged hard, knowing he wouldn't be able to stay on much longer. He had to get in that cockpit or stop the plane. It climbed higher, the ground slowly disappearing, and Steve made his choice. He set to lift his shield off his back, but a bullet grazed his shoulder, another one ricocheting off the canopy and into the corner of his shield with a sickening crack, it threw him off balance and sent him tumbling from the plane to the ground below.

He got his shield under him just in time, curled up on his side to let the vibranium absorb the impact. It still hurt when he landed, though, as the force of the fall ricocheted through the vibranium and resonated deep in his bones.

Peggy was on her knees by his side as he rolled to his back and stretched his legs out, taking a deep breath. "Are you all right?" She ran her hands over his face and down his chest, inspecting the small wound on his shoulder.

"Jesus Christ, now I _know_ why we won Europe." Thompson shook his head. "Rogers, that was suicide."

Steve groaned as he sat up. "Almost had him, actually. There was a shooter, caught me off guard." Peggy helped him stand. "How long until he makes it to New York?"

Sousa answered, his hand on his sidearm. "12 minutes. Maybe less."

"Maybe we could talk him down." Thompson pulled out his gun, one ear on the conversation, one eye on the lookout for Steve's sniper.

"You think he'd listen?" Sousa's question was half-hearted.

Thomson nodded, his eyes still on the building across from them. "Chief did."

Peggy dusted the dirt from her knees as Steve got his legs under him. "Radio room?" She asked Jarvis.

"Second floor of the hangar." Jarvis supplied, nervous.

Peggy looked at the men. "I need someone to take one of those planes up."

"Why?" Thompson looked at her like she was crazy, she could only sigh in response.

"Shoot him down with a plane full of poisonous gas?" Sousa added to the objection.

Steve could only add his support for Peggy's plan, even though he was now feeling the pull of past events, as well. "You'd have to do it over the water before he reaches land."

"Well, I'm not your guy. I've never flown a plane before." Sousa stuttered out his response.

Thompson shook his head as they started for the hanger. "Likewise."

When the two agents looked at Steve, he felt obligated to answer, obliged to put himself in a plane again, even though he could see the fear in Peggy's eyes at the thought of him going up there. "Flying I'm not so bad it, takeoff and landings aren't exactly part of my arsenal, though." He nodded to himself. "I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"I can do it." Jarvis stood tall, shoulders set with determination.

Peggy's head snapped up, surprised to hear his voice. "Mr. Jarvis, I cannot ask this of you."

Jarvis looked at her, as open, honest, and clear headed as she'd ever seen him. "Mr. Stark would want to be stopped by any means possible. We have little time. I have experience flying. It's the only move that makes sense. I'll be of no use here in a fire fight."

Peggy took a deep breath, making her decision and looking at Sousa and Thompson. "Help him get off the ground."

They followed Jarvis into the hanger as Steve and Peggy headed for the stairs. He had his shield out, his gun trained over it as he led her up the stairs and quietly toward the control room. As they entered the hallway they could hear voices. Peggy lifted her shotgun and moved into the radio room. "Hands up."

"Don't move," Steve added, sliding in beside her, his gun to Dottie's head to halt her reach for the pistol he assumed she was carrying.

"Move away from the radio slowly." Peggy ordered the doctor. He slid his chair back a few inches, but not far enough for her comfort.

His eyes were wide, as were Dottie's when she turned. The doctor spoke first, "Mr. Stark's implication was true, then."

"Shut up," Peggy commanded.

The doctor continued. "His biggest regret wasn't losing you as I assumed, my dear Captain America," the man's accent rolled through the room like butter, making Peggy blink several times to try to keep her mind straight. "No, it was being unable to bring you back quickly enough."

"Stop talking," Peggy commanded, moving forward. "I will shoot you."

The doctor stood, stepping back, his hands high in the air. "I am unarmed and not resisting. You won't shoot a man who is unarmed."

"I will," Steve said, stepping forward. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back. And don't talk."

The doctor complied, slowly. Just as soon as Steve holstered his gun to tie the man up, Dottie turned and knocked the rifle from Peggy's hands with a swift kick. It went off as it clattered to the floor, everyone in the room flinching. Dottie attacked her, unrelenting with vicious punches and kicks. Peggy held her own, but Steve couldn't resist helping. He stepped over, swinging an arm around Dottie and pulling her off Peggy, which gave Fennhoff just enough time to flee the room.

"Dammit!" Steve spat, tossing Dottie to the floor. "You ok?" He asked Peggy as she stood.

"I've got this," she nodded, "you get him."

Steve dashed from the room as Dottie pushed her way up to standing. "I used to be so jealous of girls like you."

Steve slowly cleared each room in the small hallway, but the man had disappeared. He could be hiding in any one of the crafts below, or any one of the dozen or so rooms on the second floor. He'd cleared the third room with no luck when he heard glass crashing back in the radio room, followed by the sickening thud of a body falling. He jumped, running back to the radio room as fast as he could. He stopped short, breathing just a little easier when he saw Peggy's silhouette at the window. "What happened?"

Peggy nodded out the window as he joined her, looking down on Dottie's body. "We have to learn more about that training camp in Russia. She's good. Too good." Peggy took one more deep breath then turned to him, all business. "Did you get him?"

"No, he disappeared." Steve shook his head, his shield dropping to his side.

Peggy pulled the radio from her pants pocket, speaking into it. "Fennhoff's escaped the radio room."

Thompson's voice came over loud and clear, "We'll get him."

Peggy slipped the device in her pocket as she sat at the airport's radio, Howard's voice calling in another routine update. "Dropping to 2,000 feet."

"Howard, it's Peggy." She took a few breaths to try to calm herself as Steve leaned on the table beside her.

Howard sounded excited over the static. "Peg! I found his signal! I'm almost there."

Peggy pressed her lips together, "No, you must listen to me."

"I'm gonna bring him home, Peg." Howard presented it to her like a present. "We found him, just like I promised!"

Steve reached out, covering Peggy's shaking hand as she continued. "Fennhoff has put this fantasy in your mind. He's trying to get you to deploy the gas over civilians."

Howard laughed. "Don't worry about that, Peg. There are no civilians where I am."

"Howard, can you hear me? You must come back." Tears were springing to her eyes now.

"I know this sounds crazy, but that... that guy, Fennhoff, he actually helped me. He... he showed me how to do this. I'm bringing Cap back, Peg." Howard's voice was so sure, so confident, that it almost hurt to listen to it.

Steve pulled the microphone away from her. "Howard, I'm back, I'm already here. You can stop now."

"Howard, turn the plane around," Peggy nearly begged over Steve's shoulder, her hand gripping his bicep tight. "Come back, and we'll talk about it."

"Steve, I can bring you back sooner. That's what I'm doing, don't you see? I'm getting there sooner!" Peggy's head fell to Steve's shoulder as the delusion became too much for her. "She was so sad, for so long, and I let both of you down. I can fix this."

"You can't time travel, Howard." Steve made his voice as hard and sharp as he knew how, hoping to break his friend out of the hallucination. "I'm here, I'm fine, and we don't blame you. Turn that plane around right now."

Howard's voice was sharp, attacking when it came over the radio again. "I can't do that. Done talking."

Peggy's head popped up as she grabbed the microphone from Steve, clutching at it desperately. "No... Wait."

Jarvis' voice came in on the radio next to them. "Miss Carter? Miss Carter, I have Mr. Stark's plane in my sights. We are one mile from land." Peggy and Steve both turned, looking at the other microphone. "Miss Carter, should I take the shot?"

Steve grabbed it first. "Hang on, Mr. Jarvis."

Jarvis' voice shook. "I'm afraid we're running out of time, Captain Rogers."

Peggy was crying as she took the microphone from Steve's hand. "No, Mr. Jarvis, I need more time!" Her hand shook. "Do not take that shot until I tell you!" She switched microphones, tipping the one to Mr. Jarvis over in her haste. "Howard, Steve is here. You found him nearly a year ago."

Steve righted the microphone as Howard's voice came back through the line. "There's something up ahead. It's him! I can fix this!"

"You don't have to fix anything," Steve pleaded. "I'm here. I'm here, now! Turn the plane around!"

It was as if he couldn't hear Steve's voice at all when he spoke. "Peg, all I've done my whole life is create destruction. Project Rebirth was..." Howard choked up as he spoke; all Peggy could do was cling to Steve. "He was the one thing I've done... That brought good into this world."

"Howard, you can't do this," Peggy's voice broke as she spoke. "You did everything you could, and he's here now." She looked at Steve then turned back to the microphone. "You believe in me, Howard, more than all the men I work with, more than my family, more than half the SSR. I can't lose you. You have to turn back." She sniffed, looking down at the table. "What's happened is in the past. We have to move on." She looked at Steve, meaning the words for his ears as well. "The war is over, it's our chance to start again."

The line was silent for long seconds, long enough for Steve to reach out for the microphone to tell Mr. Jarvis to take the shot. Just as his fingers wrapped around the base, Howard's line came to life. "It is over, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes," Peggy answered, holding both hands on the microphone stand. "Where are you?"

She could almost hear the way his voice and his mind cleared as he spoke. "Evidently, flying a plane... to Manhattan. I guess you can explain that to me once I land."

Steve grabbed the other microphone tight, "Jarvis, he's fine. Stand down."

"Oh, thank goodness," Jarvis' relief was palpable. "Tell Mr. Stark to follow me back." The man sighed. "I'll bring him home."

Peggy slumped in Steve's arms, holding tight as the tears came as Steve's head fell to her shoulder, a silent prayer sitting on his lips. "Thank god," she whispered, over and over as he held her.

Peggy his her face against Steve's neck as he pulled the microphone towards him, desperate to hold back the sobs he could feel welling up on her chest. "Howard, Jarvis is just behind you. Follow him back, alright?"

Howard, of course, couldn't resist teasing even in his worst moments. "Roger, Rogers."

"He's alright," Steve reminded her as he stood them up, pulling her tighter against him. "We did it." He was worried; he'd never seen her crumble so hard or so fast, not on any mission they ever shared. Peggy pulled away, catching her breath and swiping at her face to clear the tears. Steve took a step towards her, using his thumb to wipe a stray tear and its mascara trail away. "Are _you_ alright?"

Peggy took a shaky breath, looking at the damned radio equipment then up at her lover's face. At that moment he wasn't a soldier, just the man that she'd loved and lost one day in the middle of a war. "It was you all over again," she whispered softly, dropping her eyes to the middle of his chest. "Every minute felt like I was back there, listening to you say…" she swallowed hard, "say goodbye."

Steve pulled her back into his arms. "I'm here. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Peggy clung to him, the feel of each muscle against her body and under her hands more reassuring than he would ever know. She let herself languish in the feeling for just a moment before pushing away. "There will be time for that."

Steve nodded, watching with pride and respect as she put herself back together in the space of two heartbeats. She turned, picking up the shotgun and leading him from the room as he set his shield back where it belonged under his shoulders.

At the bottom of the stairs Peggy steeled herself to see Dottie's body- the face of a girl she had so underestimated, of a woman she initially thought might be a friend. She took a deep breath as she turned the corner to go through the double glass doors, but on the other side of them she saw no body. The wing of the plane was there, as was debris and blood, but Dottie was long gone.

"Come on," Steve whispered. "She's not a threat right now." He pointed across the hanger where Thompson and Sousa were escorting a gagged Fennhoff towards the car.

Peggy nodded and walked slowly but surely toward the exit. Exhausted and overwrought from the last day, she was surprised to hear Howard and Jarvis bickering as she exited the hanger. "And for future reference, under no circumstance would I want anyone to shoot or otherwise hurt me. You got that?"

Jarvis' reply was short and tired as they stop at the exit of the hanger by their friends. "Your point is amply made, sir."

Howard smiled, turning and hugging the man. "Aw, you're all right, Jarvis."

Jarvis, completely uncomfortable, stuttered out his reply. "As are you, sir."

Howard turned, a soft smile for Peggy. "I owe you another one, pal."

Her heart skipped a beat to see him alive. "To be honest, I've stopped counting, Howard." She reached out, the one armed hug as much balm to her soul as the tears a few moments ago had been. He pecked her cheek before he let her go, trying to say so many things without words.

Howard turned to Steve last, holding out his hand. "Thank you, Cap."

Steve looked at the man and his held out hand. "I don't get a hug?" he asked, his arms out to the side as he looked around. "Pretty sure I fell about three stories off that plane… and I don't get a hug?"

Howard shrugged and moved toward the man, wrapping an arm around him. The clap Steve gave his back was harder than he expected, but not too hard for a man of Steve's size and strength. "Didn't want to make you look like a pansy in front of the boys," Howard said as he stepped away, tipping his head to the two SSR agents.

Steve barked out a laugh, looking fondly at the man. "I'm glad you're alright."

Before Howard could come up with a reply, Thomson joined them. "What are we gonna do about this guy?" Thompson asked.

"I suggest we put him in the trunk until we can find a permanent way of preventing him from speaking." Carter gazed at the man through the car window from where she was. He seemed so harmless, and that was what was most dangerous about him.

"What about Miss Underwood?" Jarvis asked, bringing her attention back to them.

"I'm afraid Dottie escaped." Peggy took a deep breath, knowing that even though it was the end, it was somehow just the beginning. "I'd wager we haven't seen the last of her."

Howard laughed, leaning back, a wide smile on his face. "Ida." He looked around, so proud of himself. "That's her name." Peggy rolled her eyes at him, even as she tried to hide her smile. "I knew I'd remember," he pointed to his head, rocking back happily on his heels. "Steel trap!"

"They're sending a team out," Sousa announced as he stepped toward the group. "Thompson and I can stay here, clean up. Why don't you guys head back?"

Peggy hesitated, she didn't want to lose any credit she might get for this, too, even though she was technically still out of the SSR if Dooley's edict held true. Thompson just shook his head. "There's nothing left to do, Carter. Go home. Make sure Stark gets home. Come in tomorrow, we'll get your statement then."

She felt Steve's hand softly come to rest on the middle of her back, and she made her decision. She was done, she couldn't be out here any more, especially if they were just going to bulldoze over everything she'd done, anyway, relegating her to an assistant all the way through. She could read it in the report tomorrow just as easily. "Very well," she relented, nodding her head. "I'll see you in the morning."

As Peggy, Jarvis and Howard walked towards the car, Steve held back for a minute, staring at the two men. "Something else, sir?" Sousa asked, the military man in him coming out in how he addressed Steve.

Steve nodded. "Don't leave her out of this. You've seen what she can do." Steve looked at Sousa and Thompson, both having the grace to look remorseful. "You take her name out of these reports, you downplay what she's done, and you're only hurting yourselves. One day, you'll need her skills, or her mind. You'll need her, and she won't be there."

Steve turned, only making it two steps before Thompson opened his mouth. "She tell you to say that? Get her hero boyfriend to stand up for her?"

Steve turned slowly and smiled at the man, knowing he would never understand. "No. She doesn't need to and she never would." Steve stepped back into Thompson's face, "I just don't like seeing my best girl having to take so much disrespect from the men whose asses she saves on a daily basis." Steve leaned forward and looked pointedly at the bruise he gave him. "You should know, Thompson, her right hook is almost as good as mine."

"Steve!" Peggy called from the car, her jaw and shoulders set in anger. Steve backed away, his hands out to the side.

Sousa couldn't hear what was said in hushed voices when Steve reached the car, but the hero was on the wrong end of a very disapproving glare when Peggy nearly shoved him in the backseat. Sousa looked at Thompson wondering if the man would go for two black eyes, shrugging. "I bet you she does."

Angie shuffled down to the lobby in her bathrobe and slippers, trying desperately not to make a face at Mrs. Fry's glare from across the room. "Your attire, Miss Martinelli?"

"Alice said it was important," the woman shrugged, taking the phone from the shelf and turning towards the wall. "Hello?"

"Angie, it's Peggy!"

Angie's eyes widened and she dropped her voice, using her other had to try to shield the conversation from anyone walking by. "Oh my god, are you alright? Did he find you? Are you actually dating Captain America?"

Peggy laughed lightly over the line. "The answer to all three is yes."

Angie slumped against the wall, standing straight again when she caught Mrs. Fry's look out of the corner of her eye. "English, you and I have a lot of talking to do!"

"We do, but there are some more pressing things at the moment."

"How can I help now?" Angie asked, pulling at the phone's cord.

"Just tell Mrs. Fry that I'll be by in a half hour to pick up my things." She took a deep breath. "And could you get a head start, packing away the things in my bathroom? I don't want to be there any longer than I have to be."

Angie stood tall, already concocting what she'd say to Mrs. Fry. "You got it. I'll get as much done as I can."

"Thank you, I'll see you soon."

Angie hung up the phone and turned, heading to Mrs. Fry's cubicle. "What is it, dear?"

"Well, that was Peggy," Angie started, knowing the woman's blood pressure was likely to rise form that alone. Before Mrs. Fry could object to anything, Angie pressed on. "She's on her way here now to pick up her things. Could I get a key to her room to get a head start for her?" Angie tried to smile charmingly, which was hard with the woman's stony expression staring back.

Mrs. Fry hummed lightly as she thought then grabbed a key from under her desk. "It's worth it to me to have her out of this establishment all the quicker." Mrs. Fry handed over the key, "You should stay away from that girl, she will sully your reputation."

"Thank you," Angie replied demurely as she took the key. When she turned she just rolled her eyes, taking the stairs two at a time to get to Peggy's place.

Jarvis pulled the car to a stop in front of The Griffith. "Really, Mr. Jarvis, you can go home to your wife," Peggy insisted, leaning forward to talk with the driver.

The butler turned in his seat. "I absolutely will not. There's no knowing what might happen to you if you took a cab or tried the subway this time of night."

Steve looked at Peggy, fairly certain they could handle themselves, but completely unwilling to reject their friend one more time. "Ok, we'll be right back out. Have the trunk ready, ok?"

Steve stepped out of the car, holding out a hand to help Peggy out. Instead of her hand, however, she placed his shield in his outstretched fingers. "What's this for?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

Peggy looked him up and down as she got out of the car, happy to see he was securing the shield to his back despite his question. "Well, you aren't wearing pressed slacks anymore, are you?" She shrugged, taking his arm. "You'll have to impress Mrs. Fry somehow."

Steve laughed as he held the door open for her, waiting until she was all he way in before following. Mrs. Fry's voice boomed loudly for all to hear from where she stood in the middle of the lobby. "Well, if it isn't Miss Carter. I'm glad you understand that after your run in this afternoon that your presence in this establishment is no longer…" Her words drifted away as she finally saw Steve, shield on his back and all.

"Is no longer what, Mrs. Fry?" Peggy asked, taking Steve's hand.

"No longer wanted," she finished, the wind completely out of her sails. By now the girls who had been in the lobby were frantically whispering, even calling up to their friends and knocking on doors for people to come see what was going on.

"Understood, Mrs. Fry." Peggy nodded, a sly smirk on her face. She looked between the older woman and Steve, who was trying his best to keep from turning several shades of red with embarrassment at the expressions of the other tenants ogling him. "I'd like to introduce you to my…suitor, Captain Steve Rogers."

"We've met," Steve said, holding out his hand.

Mrs. Fry shook it weakly. "We have?"

"You advised me to trim my beard and get some pressed slacks," he reminded her. He ran a thumb over his chin. "Makes a difference."

"Quite," the woman chirped, stepping back. She cleared her throat, looking down her nose at the pair. "And no matter who you are… or whom you date… you've broken our rules." The woman looked at them for a long moment. "Mr. Rogers may wait outside. Ladies, please help Miss Carter with her things."

Steve and Peggy looked at one another, not sure what to do until Miriam wedged her way in between them, taking Steve by the arm and bodily escorting him to the door. "I uh-" he stuttered out, surprised, "guess I'll wait by the car."

As he was pushed from the establishment he could see the women surround Peggy, hugging her and asking questions as she tried to make her way to the stairs. Mrs. Fry just insinuated herself once more and broke the group up.

Steve knew exactly what he needed to do.

Angie was in the room, filling a suitcase with sweaters when Peggy and Mrs. Fry entered, closing the door to a gaggle of women in the hall. Angie was hugging her friend before she'd even gotten all the way in the room. "I'm so glad you're all right!"

"I am, Angie." Peggy pulled back and smiled. "It's all been sorted."

"So you're not on the lam anymore?" She asked not caring for Mrs. Fry's glare.

Peggy laughed. "No, my name's been cleared. Everything is as it should be."

"Either way," Mrs. Fry interrupted, "you'll need to take your things and- Oh!" Mrs. Fry screamed, frightened at the sight of Steve crawling through the window.

"Thought I might be of some help with the heavier things," he said, smiling as the older woman caught her breath.

"Young man! You cannot be in here!" She huffed, marching right up to Steve's face as Peggy and Angie tried to contain their laugher, finishing clearing out Peggy's drawers. "Men are-"

"Not allowed above the first floor," Steve finished. "I know, but you have a very convenient drainage system," Steve pointed out the window, "and it's actually really easy to get in and out without you noticing."

Miriam was offended; she clutched her glasses to her chest. "It most certainly is not!"

"Yeah, it is," Angie affirmed.

Peggy just nodded as she rolled up her bedspread. "I'm afraid it is."

The woman huffed, unimpressed by Steve's cheeky smile. She looked him up and down, her distain tempered by her respect for the man. "Alright, then, you're a military strategist, what would you suggest?"

Steve and Jarvis unloaded the bags and boxes into Steve's apartment quicker than Peggy thought was possible. With a couple of quick hugs, the butler was off to see his wife. Peggy collapsed in the armchair, closing her eyes. "It has been a very, _very_ long day."

Steve took her hands in his, pulling her back to standing. "Let's get to bed. We can deal with everything else in the morning."

She felt languid next to him, the adrenaline of the day wearing off, leaving her feeling empty. "Grab that one," Peggy pointed to a small brown bag, "It's got a nightgown in it."

"I thought you had a nightgown here?" Steve asked, picking up the satchel and handing it to her.

Peggy laughed tiredly, licking her lips as she headed for the bedroom, kicking her shoes off in the hallway and not caring where they landed. "Used to have a night gown here. Don't you remember?"

"Oh, was that…?" Steve flicked on the bedside light and sat unceremoniously, starting with his shoes as Peggy fumbled with the belt on her blazer.

"The one that ended up in five pieces, yes." She dropped her blazer on the floor, her shirt soon following. "Next time I say I want you to tear my clothes off…"

Steve stood, pulling his undershirt over his head and unbuttoning his pants. "You don't actually want me to rip them. Got it." Steve kicked his pants to the pile of clothes on the floor and crawled under the covers, sighing as he found a comfortable position on his back.

Peggy hummed a light laugh at his antics, shimmying out of her bra and slipping her nightgown over her head. She huffed in frustration, stumbling out to the bathroom and quickly scrubbing her face clean before she returned to the now dark bedroom. She slid under the blanket, resting her head on Steve's shoulder. He reached out and pulled Peggy close, the only light coming from the moon, drifting in through the curtains.

When Peggy walked into the SSR office the next morning, the last thing she expected was applause. She smiled shyly and shook hands with the men as they clapped. She wouldn't say she didn't like it, but something about all the show of it made her uneasy.

Thompson stepped into the aisle, his hands going to his waist after he finished his applause. "Good morning, Peggy. You're here bright and early. I assume that means you'll be staying with the SSR?"

She looked between the men. They had at least cleaned up, but she doubted either one of them got more than an hour or two of sleep. She'd happily let them handle the paper work for this after months of pawning their typing off on her. "Haven't decided, actually. I just came to pick up my paycheck."

Sousa smiled a little. "Well, we'll keep the desk for you, just in case."

"She'll be back," Thompson announced with such a sickeningly self-righteous air that she almost wanted to quit just to prove him wrong.

"Which one of you fellas is Jack Thompson?" Peggy turned as a small man entered, flanked by what she assumed were at the very least personal security, if not the secret service.

"That's me." He strode forward; ready to take on whatever this man had to say.

"Walt Cooper, United States Senate. I just wanted to come down here and personally commend you for the fine work you and your team did. An attack on Times Square could have been a calamity, and what I hear is that you saved thousands of lives. The city and the country owe you a great debt…" Peggy tuned the drivel out, focusing on keeping her face a fine mask of indifference. Despite turning to look at her, Thompson didn't correct the man once, not even to offer accolades to Sousa.

It was Sousa who spoke up, but only after Thompson and his new friend had disappeared into the chief's office. "How can you just sit there and take that?"

"Daniel," his name was a warning, one that she didn't want to have to utter again.

"I'm gonna tell that senator what really happened." The man turned, trudging toward the back office. "Hell, I'll tell Truman himself."

She sighed, shaking her head. "It really doesn't bother me." It was a lie. It bothered her, but it was only one of a million things that bothered her about the way she was treated, about the way hundreds of other capable women were treated by men. There were battles and there were wars, now was the time to pick neither.

"Well, it bothers the hell out of me. I saved that jerk's life." Sousa pointed at the office where Thompson and the congressman were sharing a drink, smiling happily. He shook his head, disgusted.

Peggy sighed, standing straight and telling the only truth she truly knew. "I don't need a congressional honor. I don't need Agent Thompson's approval or the president's. I know my value. Anyone else's opinion doesn't really matter."

"Yeah, well, you've got the Captain's approval, that's for sure," the man mused, dour.

Peggy shook her head at him, stepping forward. She pressed a hand to his shoulder and thought about telling him that she'd appreciated how he'd always tried to stand up for her, how she knew he did his best, but that she didn't owe him anything for just trying, nor did any woman owe any man for treating her as an equal in a room full of men who treated her as a second class citizen. She didn't say any of it, though, just smiled at him and passed him by, hoping he'd understand. She stopped at her desk, picking up the mail and sliding her paycheck in her bag, stowing the rest in her top drawer for another day.

"Hey, um," Sousa looked up at Peggy, slightly nervous. "What's… what's he doing now? Captain Rogers?"

The question took Peggy off guard, she hadn't expected anyone to really care, most people just assumed certain things about him. She couldn't exactly share that she and Steve had a meeting first thing tomorrow morning with the head of the SSR to discuss his disobeying orders, or that an MP was now stationed at his door and on his fire escape until that meeting happened to keep him from going AWOL. "What do you mean?"

Sousa shrugged. "If he's looking for a day job, well," the man sighed, "I think 'chief' is open here."

Peggy smiled softly, stepping to the man's desk. "Don't you think Thompson has that one locked down now?"

The man shook his head, staring at the office. "Nah," He looked back at Peggy, a small smirk on his face. "I think Steve's reputation is slightly better than Jack's." Sousa sighed, slightly sad when he looked back at her. "You'll come back, won't you?"

He looked so forlorn that she couldn't help but reach out, letting a hand roll down his arm. "I believe so."

"Good," Sousa answered, leaning against his desk, doing his best to treat her as just another agent. He tipped his head toward Thompson. "We'll need some good people to keep saving his sorry ass. I can't do it all by myself."

Jarvis opened the door, showing Peggy and Angie the drawing room. "Oh my God. You're kiddin' me." Angie's voice took on an even higher register than normal as she took in the massive home.

"I know what you're thinking, Miss Martinelli, and, yes. The drawing room has recently been refurbished in the neoclassical style." Jarvis's dry humor was starting to grow on Peggy, especially now that they were no longer running from danger.

"On the small side, isn't it?" Peggy asked, egging him on.

Jarvis tipped his head back and forth. "Well, it is one of Mr. Stark's quainter residences, yes."

Angie laughed, "'Quaint.' You could fit the entire apartment where I grew up in this room."

Jarvis rattled off just how quaint it was. "Six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a rooftop terrace for Al Fresco dining, and the library has a... sufficient collection of first editions."

Angie whirled around, "And you're saying I can stay here for free?"

Jarvis nodded, trying not to look at Peggy's grin. "Since the unfortunate incidents at both your home and place of work, Mr. Stark has offered this residence to you for as long as you might require it as a thank you for all your help."

Peggy tried to stay as stoic as she could. "It's a bit far from the theater district."

"I'll live with it." Angie's eyes were still wide as saucers. "You got a phone? I have to call my mother."

Jarvis smirked, unable to contain himself at her excitement. Usually Mr. Stark's guests were well aware of what he could afford and greedily wanted more. "Naturally. There's a telephone in every room."

"Oh my God! Are you kiddin' me?" Angie turned, nearly bouncing into the next room to find a phone.

"How refreshing to meet someone who appreciates the finer things." Jarvis turned to Peggy, watching as she carefully placed her jacket and purse down.

"I appreciate the finer things. I just don't want to know what's happened in and on the fine things." She nearly laughed as Jarvis looked twice at the small pillow he had in his hands before he put it back on the chair, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "I imagine you're looking forward to some peace and quiet. At the very least, having both feet on the ground."

He stepped forward, hands sliding into his pockets. "Yes, I've allowed several of my duties to fall by the wayside of late. My next project is... is quite engrossing... A complete and total overhaul of the kitchen spices."

Peggy feigned excitement. "Fascinating!"

Jarvis avoided her gaze for a moment, thinking hard before he spoke. "But should you again find yourself in need of my services, I would be honored to assist you at a moment's notice, Miss Carter." He looked up as he finished speaking, his eyes full of reverence.

"Thank you, Mr. Jarvis." She held his gaze for a moment before it became too emotional. They'd both been through far more then either had bargained for when Howard had first approached her, and the relief at it ending was at once so very exhilarating while still somehow leaving her feeling hollow. "Where is Howard? I haven't heard from him."

"Presently attempting to negotiate the return of his property from the SSR." Jarvis replied, the emotional moment behind them.

Peggy felt a deep pang of disappointment in the inventor. "Well, let's hope next time he builds a better vault."

"Actually, he's decided to destroy everything," Jervis revealed.

"Really? Well, that surprises me." Peggy's eyes lit up, the empty hollow in her stomach was gone at the revelation of the man's intentions.

"He continues to believe that no government... even our own... can be trusted with those particular inventions." Jarvis took a step closer to her. "He is also working on a gift for you and Captain Rogers, though he's not yet made me privy to what it might be."

Peggy shook her head. "Tell Howard he doesn't need to do that."

"He does," Jarvis quickly responded, "and should. If there was anything I could give you, to show the depths of my gratitude, I would." Peggy just shook her head, her eyes at her feet. She wasn't used to such emotions from people, it made her feel like a silly child. "Miss Carter, may I ask…?"

"Yes?" She lifted her head, looking him in the eye.

His hands fidgeted in front of him. "You and Captain Rogers, you have… the vial, yes?"

Peggy took a deep breath, remembering Steve pulling it the ball from a pocket this morning, having amazingly held on to it through all that they'd been through. He still owed her that particular story. "Yes, Mr. Jarvis, we do."

He breathed a sigh of relief, smiling. "It was the only thing neither of us could account for, and I am quite certain that no one else in the world is entitled to it, including my employer."

Peggy nodded, uncomfortable. "Thank you, Mr. Jarvis."

The moment was broken by Angie's voice ringing out. "Peg! You gotta come see this!"

Peggy sat reclined in Steve's arms, the two of them lying on his small sofa, curled tight as the radio played soft music. The Blitzkrieg Button sat in the middle of the small coffee table, the center of their conversation.

"That's the first thing that came to my mind!" Steve defended himself as Peggy looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"That's vile!" She replied, making a disgusted face.

He shrugged. "It is my own blood."

She shook her head, looking back at the sphere. "You cannot drink it."

"Ok," he relented, squeezing her tight for a moment, relishing that he had her in his arms. "What do you suggest?"

"We could save it?" She put her hands over his, running the tips of her fingers over his wrists. "Put it in the refrigerator?"

"Nah," Steve shook his head, wrinkling up his nose. "That's even more disgusting than drinking it." She looked up at him, but he defended his choice. "Would you want to look at my blood every time you went in the ice box for some meat? Sitting right next to the milk every morning?"

She huffed, "I see your point."

He leaned his head on her shoulder, looking at the ball. "What would you do if I weren't here?"

She closed her eyes, her hands coming to a stop on his. "Steve, don't…"

"No, really," he kissed her cheek. "If I wasn't here, if you didn't have an unlimited supply of Steve Rogers' blood in your bed every night, what would you do with it?"

She wrapped her arms tighter around his, the substance of him reminding her that he wasn't going anywhere, even if his question reminded her of lonely, tear-filled nights. She swallowed. "I suppose… I suppose I would get rid of it." She closed her eyes and imagined poring it over the rail of the Brooklyn Bridge, bringing him home the best way she could.

"You wouldn't save it?" Steve asked, shifting her in his arms to look at her face.

"No," she replied right away, letting a hand run over his smooth cheek. "If you were gone…" She swallowed, composing herself. "If you were gone, I'd make sure that they couldn't use you, any of you, to hurt anyone else."

He pulled her close, kissing her forehead, and cradling her to his chest. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she replied. She looked up at him, pressing away to sit. "It's settled then," she grasped the sphere and held it out to him. "Let's not waste any time."

"Yup," He swung his leg out from behind her, standing and taking the sphere from her.

When he began to pad barefoot further into the apartment, she jumped up. "Where are you going?"

He didn't even turn. "To flush it down the toilet."

She ran up behind him, grabbing it from his hands. "You can't flush yourself down the toilet!"

He shrugged, surprised at her outrage. "Well, down the sink, then." Her equally affronted look was more adorable than upsetting. He laughed, shaking his head before dropping a kiss in her hair. "You're officially in charge of this." He grazed a hand down the side of her face. "Do with me what you will."


	10. This is Just the Beginning

Chapter 10: This is Just the Beginning (post-Valediction)

Summary: Howard calls Steve and Peggy a month after the events at the SSR are resolved with a mysterious directive to be ready to go in 20 minutes…

AN: I am very honored by all the love I've gotten for this fic. Thank you everyone so very much for taking the time to let me know how much you enjoyed it, some of the reviews have blown me away. As of right now this is the last chapter, but depending on how Season 2 goes, I may try my hand at continuing the story of Steve in the Agent Carter Universe in another fic.

Steve ran a towel through his wet hair as he padded into the living room, his chest still slick with water from his shower. "Peg, who was that?"

Peggy stared at the phone as she put it down, still a bit bewildered by the call. "That was Howard…"

"And?" he prompted, wrapping the small towel around his neck and holding both sides.

Peggy crossed her arms, her dressing gown slipping from her shoulder as she did. "He wouldn't let me talk, just said we need to be ready to go in twenty minutes."

Steve's eyebrows knit together, "Did he say where?"

She shook her head, "No, but he said to leave the shield at home, so it can't be that dangerous."

"Anything else?" Steve asked, just as confused as Peggy.

She started towards the bedroom, ready to get dressed, stopping at his side to look up at him and answer. "He said... he wanted to make us pancakes."

"It's your day off, you could have skipped the work clothes," Steve remarked as he watched Peggy check her purse for her gun for a third time. Just last night she'd been picking through the closet, lamenting the fact that she had a handful of lovely dresses that she never wore anymore. This morning they'd been getting ready for a day out, a stroll around Central Park and maybe a show, all so she could put on one of the many dresses that sat, gathering dust, at the back of her closet.

Peggy had returned to the SSR, and though she hadn't gotten the accolades she deserved, she was deemed far more valuable than before, out in the field nearly every day, relegating even her sensible work skirts to the back of her closet in favor of slacks. The fact that Thompson had taken her as his right hand man proved the gent had at least some sense.

Peggy sighed as they waited at the curb, still two minutes until Howard was due to arrive. "It's Howard, who knows what he has up his sleeve." She stood tall in her pants suit and sensible shoes, thinking about the sundress and sandals she'd planned to wear today. "As much as I love dresses, they can be terribly inconvenient in a tight spot."

Steve laughed, looking at her fondly. "I remember as much." The memory came easily. They'd set up a small base outside the Rhineland for one mission right in the middle of the war, just a hand full of tents and a dozen or so support soldiers for the commandos. The area had been deemed safe and as such Peggy had been required to wear her proper uniform, skirt, heels, and all, each day. It had been a rainy week, and each step Peggy took her heels sank into the mud, causing choice words to slip from her lips. But on Friday night they were found out, just six hours shy of heading out for their mission. The Nazi tactical team was easily overtaken, but the image of Peggy, hiding behind a tent and ripping slits into her skirt with the jagged heels she tossed away after, just so she could run through the mud without tripping, was an image he'd never forget. "I was ready to throw you over my shoulder just to get you out of there."

"Handled myself just fine, I think," Peggy mumbled as Mr. Jarvis pulled up to the curb in front of them.

"Always," Steve leaned down to whisper as Jarvis stepped from the vehicle. "Jarvis!" He greeted, shaking the man's hand.

"Captain Rogers, Miss Carter," Jarvis nodded at both of them, a lovely smile on his face. "I do hope Mr. Stark's impromptu call didn't interrupt any plans?"

Peggy shook her head, smiling. "Nothing of importance. Besides, he offered pancakes."

Jarvis opened the door to the back seat, ushering Steve and Peggy in. "Indeed he did."

When they were settled and Jarvis had pulled back onto the road, Steve leaned forward to speak with the man. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, almost enjoying the suspense.

"Yes," Jarvis answered quickly, not elaborating at all.

Steve watched the man's stoic face carefully. "Are you going to tell us?"

"No."

The car ride was short, only a few miles out of the city and down roads that were just starting to be developed. Jarvis stopped on a quaint suburban road in front of a house that was slightly larger than the others on the block, blue siding accented with white windowsills and a red door, a picture-perfect white picket fence surrounding the manicured yard.

Jarvis stepped out, opening the door for Peggy and Steve. "You'll find Mr. Stark inside."

"You're not joining us?" Peggy asked as Jarvis turned to get back in the car.

The butler shook his head. "Unfortunately not, there's still a bit of work to be done, but perhaps I'll be back later."

Steve and Peggy watched Jarvis pull away before turning back to the house, looking it over. Steve opened the gate, gesturing grandly. Peggy proceeded him, walking up the small stone walk, Steve following as she reached the three stairs to the front door. "Howard?" Peggy called as she knocked, the door swinging open on its hinge soundlessly.

Stark's voice echoed through the hall. "In the kitchen!"

Steve closed the door behind him as they entered, carefully walking through the pristine home. Everything looked brand new, but not at all like anything Howard would ever buy. The furniture wasn't ostentatious like the pieces that decorated Howard's other homes; here it was soft and comfortable, modern without being abstract and edgy. The front hall split to a living and dining room, which they both slowly passed, waiting for some kind of surprise that never came. A set of stars made the hallway slightly smaller, branching off into a darkened room and a kitchen, where they finally found Howard, wearing that damned frilly apron.

"There are my two favorite people!" Howard smiled as he whisked batter in a bowl, turning to the stove behind him to pour the liquid into a sizzling pan. "I didn't know if you'd want bacon or sausage, so I made both."

"Howard… what's going on?" Peggy asked cautiously, taking in the kitchen that was nearly as large as the one in his mansion, filled with shiny new appliances and small table set in the corner.

Howard tuned, his brow furrowed. "Peggy, I told you on the phone. Pancakes."

Steve peered out the window over the sink, taking in the vast back yard and the small deck with its porch swing built for two as Peggy took a seat at the table, still confused. "Well, yes, you said as much, but why out here?"

"Is this house yours, Howard?" Steve asked, slightly in awe. The mansions Howard had were impressive, but this little house that looked like it was right out of Better Homes and Gardens reminded him of the homes he dreamed of having when he was a kid: a yard to play in, room to ride his bike without taxis flying by… it tugged at his heartstrings, thinking this was the kind of place he'd want to get someday.

"Yes and no," the man answered as he flipped a flapjack.

"Howard," Peggy's exasperation was evident as she stood, prepared to give him a speech about dragging her out on her only day off this week.

"That's not what I meant," He sighed, moving the pan off the heat and turning the stove off despite breakfast being only half done. He pressed his lips together and put a hand on Steve's shoulder, silently asking him to sit at the small table with a gesture of his hand. Howard sat last, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "I own this house, you don't have to worry about that," he said as he looked at his friends.

Peggy sighed, "Then please explain this to me, Howard, because you've never been quite so stealthy about meeting you for breakfast before."

Howard nodded, looking at them both. "I'm trying to say 'thank you,' but you know how I am at that." Howard, for once, looked shy, and Steve just smiled at his friend, encouraging him to go on. "I didn't know how to show it, not for a long time." It had been a month since his name had been cleared, a month since Peggy had gone back to the SSR and since Steve had been quietly brought back from the dead and asked to work as a top secret consultant for them. Life had moved on, swiftly and without waiting for anyone to really deal with all that had happened. "The pancakes were Jarvis' idea." Howard swept a hand through the room. "He outfitted this whole kitchen with anything anyone could need to cook just about whatever you can imagine."

Howard laced his fingers together and leaned on the table, continuing. "I'm not very good at… at this whole being friends thing, you know?"

Peggy laid a hand on his, thinking of the two times he'd called this past month just to awkwardly check in and make sure she and Steve were doing well. "I think you're coming along splendidly."

Howard's lip curled, a half smile at the praise. "Thanks, Peg."

"I do love your pancakes," Steve added, the smell making his stomach growl. He hadn't realized they'd skipped breakfast until now.

"Good," Howard nodded, pushing his chair back as he prepared to get up from the table. "Like I said, they were Jarvis' idea- something personal." Howard stood, swaggering back to one of the cabinets, opening it to reveal empty shelves but for one small box. "I like to do things a little bigger," he announced with his trademark confidence as he pulled the box off the shelf. He looked at it in his hands a moment before sliding it across the table between Steve and Peggy. "Nothing will ever be enough," he said solemnly, "to really thank you two for what you did."

Peggy looked at Steve as she gently pulled the small box toward her, tugging on the ribbon to unravel it. Steve's hand fell over hers as he looked at the box for a second, standing and hugging the man without warning. He stepped back, his hands on Howard's shoulders. "The pancakes would be enough, and saying thank you is enough." Howard could barely look Steve in the eyes as he continued. "That's what friends do."

Howard gulped hard, watching as Peggy dropped the box, standing and hugging him as well. "Steve's right. That's what friends do."

Howard was overwhelmed, stepping out of Peggy's embrace to clear his throat and wipe his hands over his face, avoiding both their gazes. "Yeah, well…" He stopped to clear his throat again, sniffing and turning back to them. "You two are going to give me a cavity with all this sweetness, so just uh…" he waved his hand at the table, turning back to the pancakes, "just open the box, will ya?"

Steve smiled sadly at their friend's back, reaching back for the box and handing it to Peggy. He looked over her shoulder as she opened the top while Howard noisily went about making more pancakes.

"Howard," Peggy asked, her voice shaking, "are these what I think they are?"

He nodded but didn't speak, pouring more batter into the pan.

Peggy carefully reached into the box, pulling out a small ring with two shiny brass keys on it. Steve did the same, pulling out a matching pair. Their eyes were wide, full of disbelief. "Howard…" Steve started to object, but the millionaire whirled on him, spatula in hand.

"I didn't know what to do for you guys… all you two need are each other. Things are just… things. They're empty and hollow and I surround myself with them all the time and get nothing out of them. And then... then I had this thought." Howard turned and slid the spatula under the last flapjack, setting it on a plate and putting the pan to the side as he switched the stove off. "I thought about what I could really give you, and I thought about what I knew about you two." He slid the ridiculous apron off, walking back to his friends, "I thought about all those miserable nights on cold bases during the war, about Peggy sharing apartments and Steve with a four floor walk up on the edge of a bad neighborhood because the SSR didn't want to be too showy with where he lived."

Howard reached out, closing each of his hands over theirs, pressing the keys into Steve and Peggy's palms. "I can give you this. Not that you wouldn't give it to yourselves one day, but…" Howard swallowed. "Let me give you this."

Steve and Peggy enveloped him in a tight hug. "Thank you, Howard," she whispered, holding him close.

Howard pushed away, uncomfortable with the affection. He sniffed, putting on his playboy demeanor like a mask. "Yeah, yeah. You two and your hugging." He waved a hand, "come on, I'll show you the place."

He led them into the center of the hall, pointing right first. "Living room," he turned left, "Dining room that seats twelve." He opened a closed door behind him, "Number one of two, yes two full bathrooms."

Peggy looked at the gleaming tile and the chrome covered fixtures, gasping. "Howard, it's gorgeous."

"Only the best for my friends. Come on, more to see." He ushered them up to the top of the stairs, a wide smile on his face. "Three bedrooms, one with an attached bathroom."

Steve walked down the hall, looking into each room. One was empty, painted white and waiting to be filled, the next was decorated tastefully as a guest room with very calm, neutral colors. He stopped in the doorway of the third room, the master bedroom. "We uh, might want to redecorate this one if that's alright with you, Howard."

The bedroom held a gigantic four posted bed and mahogany furniture that was far more expensive and elegant than anything anywhere else in the house, but it was the decor that had prompted Steve's protest. Every inch of anything that could be covered in fabric was red, white, and blue. The comforter on the bed sported a quilted flag design, and there were throw pillows shaped like Steve's shield that Howard must have had specially made. "Why would we…" Peggy's question died as she peered into the room. She had to bite her lip as she took in all of the effort that had gone into it. "Well," she patted Steve's shoulder, knowing that the man she loved could take Howard's good-natured ribbing, "at least it matches the outside of the house."

"Come on," Howard bounced excitedly at the top of the stairs. "There's more." They followed him down, back through the kitchen. "I already told you about the kitchen," he said as he took them through the first floor hall to a door just to the right of the kitchen. "Rumpus room!" He swung his arm out, presenting the den. It had several soft and comfortable looking couches, all facing a fireplace. Around the edges of the room, electronics were strewn decoratively: a projector and screen in one corner, a small film and movie camera sitting together on a shelf, a gorgeous radio and record cabinet on one wall next to a small decorative cabinet that neither of them had seen before.

"Howard, is that…?" Peggy didn't even ask, she just walked into the room ignoring Howard's grin. When she turned a dial it buzzed horribly before slowly but surely an image floated to the small screen: a man speaking in black and white. Howard had gotten them a television.

"There aren't that many stations yet, but it's the wave of the future!" Howard smiled, pulling Steve towards the window. "Back yard's big enough to do whatever you want with it. Grill, pool," He man's voice dropped and his eyes slipped to small slits as he elbowed the man next to him in the shoulder, "Swing set and sand box when the time comes… am I right?"

Steve laughed, even though he could picture it in his mind: he and Peggy running after two adorable toddlers, swing set on the left and a small kiddy pool just in the one corner there. "Howard, this is…"

Howard didn't let him finish, just jumped back. "Come on, one more thing!"

He was out of the room, leaving Steve and Peggy in his dust. She stood, switching the television off and catching up with Steve, watching as Howard disappeared through another door and down a set of stairs. "Can we really accept this?" Peggy asked quietly.

"I don't see how we can say no," Steve replied, inching them towards Howard's excited voice as he rambled on about a laundry room. "We might literally kill him if we said no."

Peggy stopped at the top of the stairs, looking into Steve's eyes, still off kilter from all that had happened. "We can't just… just move out here, can we?"

"Why not?" He asked, stepping down the stairs as she followed. "Howard is right, that apartment the SSR got me isn't in the best neighborhood. And we could probably use some more room with the two of us living together now."

"I suppose you're right." Peggy stopped at the last stair, watching as Howard fiddled with what looked like a fuse box in the wall. "I couldn't let him down."

Steve wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling wickedly. "I suppose this means I'll have to make an honest woman of you sooner rather than later."

Peggy kissed him quickly, taking on the air of a movie announcer as she spoke, "'Captain America lives a life of debauchery!' Who would believe it?"

"I would!" Howard answered, moving over to them. "So like I said, through that door behind you is the laundry room." He swept his arm out. "We set this up as an office, but you could always turn it into whatever you wanted."

The basement was finished, and in the middle of the room before them were two great wooden desks, pushed together to face one another, elegant chairs slid in tight at opposing ends. "Oh, Howard," Peggy sighed, imagining her and Steve passing reports to one another over the gorgeous wood rather than the barely stable coffee table they worked at in his apartment now.

"Last thing," he tipped his head, leading them to the fuse box he'd been fiddling with. "All your fuses are here, just like normal. Steve, I left a box of extras for you in the shed out back, just in case."

"Thoughtful," Steve nodded, watching as Howard opened the door to the panel.

"Fuse 12, though, that's the one." Howard flipped it, and the wall next to him slid away, revealing a panel of electronics. "Trip it, and you have access to this."

"What is it?" Peggy asked, ghosting her fingers over each of the switches.

Howard smiled like the cat that ate the canary. "Security system. That picket fence out front is outfitted with a proximity sensor and a magnetic deadlock. Not that it'll stop anyone from going over it, but it should keep the kiddies out at Halloween." Howard flipped two switches under the label 'fence,' bright lights popping up and the small computer screen next to him jumping to life as it started to display data. "That's why there's this one." Howard pointed to a switch labeled 'lawn.' "Pressure sensitive plates six feet under the dirt will give you the approximate size of anything that sets off the alarms, so you can differentiate between a squirrel and the mail man."

Howard walked behind them, bringing their attention to a different panel. "All the doors and windows have manual as well as magnetic locks, and a full security system that's accessible from a hidden panel in the front hall." Howard pointed to a small keypad and piece of glass. "This is a fingerprint scanner. Scan your thumb, enter a code, and it locks the system, no one else can make any changes until you rescan and unlock it."

"This is better security than at the SSR," Peggy marveled.

Howard nodded, smug. "I know."

Steve, ever the optimist, eyed Howard. "Are you… expecting trouble?"

He laughed. "You would think. But knowing you two, I have a feeling it'll find you more often than you'd like." Peggy and Steve looked at the floor, knowing he was right. "Plus it's basically the system I use in my own home."

"So you're saying it's good for keeping models and actresses out?" Peggy asked, finally getting a chance to tease her friend as the shock of the morning wore off.

Howard laughed. "Yes!" He patted Steve on the back, "And you'll need to when word starts to really get out that this one's alive."

"Actually not a bad idea," Steve mused as Howard led them back up the stairs. "Might be hard to keep our privacy." For now he was neither alive nor dead, the SSR had been convinced to simply ignore his return. Touting that he was alive nationally might invite Russia to be more aggressive, but he'd been able to convince them that if they simply ignored him, let Steve live his life and help out on a mission here or there just as Steve Rogers and not as Captain America, there was as little chance of something happening as there was when they were pretending he was still dead. It had been a small victory, but an important one that put him back on the payroll, gave him a sense of purpose, and made him able to take missions with Peggy and the Commandos again.

"You say the word and I can have hideaway steel shutters installed on the windows," Howard offered. "I thought that might be overkill to start out with."

"Right" Peggy laughed, "The steel shutters would be overkill."

Howard turned to the two of them, standing in the middle of the kitchen. "So, tell me the truth, do you like it?" He tried to hide the nervousness in his voice, tried to wear a smirk that didn't quite fit his tight lips, to let them know that it was all right to say no to him.

"We love it," Steve answered, reaching out for Howard.

The billionaire backed up, his hands in front of him. "Jeez, you guys and your hugs! For two of the toughest soldiers ever to live you two are the biggest softies I've ever seen." Steve backed off at the man's joke as Howard shoved his hands in his pockets, his voice a little more sincere now. "I'm glad. I want the best for my friends."

"Speaking of the best," Peggy sat at the table, folding her hands in front of her with every ounce of seriousness she could muster. "I believe I was promised sausage and pancakes?"

Howard smiled, reaching out for his apron. "Coming right up!" He turned back to the oven, slipping a potholder over his hand and pulling out a warming tray of sausage and bacon that had already been cooked. "I'll join you two for breakfast and then get out of your hair." He turned, plating the meat, "Jarvis will come get you whenever you want, you just have to call."

"Where you rushing off to?" Steve asked, curious as to why he wouldn't want to spend more time with them.

Howard dropped the pate of meat on the table, a stack of breakfast plates in the other hand. "Me? Nowhere special." He winked salaciously, "I just figured you two might want to christen your star spangled bedroom."

Two weeks later, the house was a mess. Though Peggy and Steve didn't have much, it seemed and awful chore trying to find the best places to put everything. They were nearly moved out of his apartment, but fairly far from being completely moved in to the house, despite the fact they'd been staying there for a week already. They'd even kept the bedroom décor, despite Steve's assertion every night that they'd change it and Peggy's grumbling about the absence of a Union Jack anywhere in the house.

Steve was sitting on the porch swing on the back deck, watching the clouds turn orange and purple with the sunset when Peggy joined him, handing him a cup of steaming tea. He set it on the arm of the swing, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders as she snuggled into his side.

She sighed, a sound that was at once both happy and sad. "What is it?" he asked, looking down at her tucked into his shoulder, the wistful look in her eyes at least telling him she wasn't upset.

She looked up at Steve, wrapped in a sweater and with the day's growth of stubble on his chin. "I just… I never really thought of us like this, you know?"

"What do you mean?" He rubbed her arm for warmth as a breeze brought goose bumps to her skin.

She sat up, tucking her leg under her and holding her mug in both hands. "When I was a girl, I never had those same dreams every other girl had. I didn't think about what my wedding might be like or what kind of house I wanted to live in. I always wanted to help, to do something worthwhile, fly an airplane or become a doctor. Not a nurse but a proper doctor, mind you, and I just never really had those fantasies." She sighed, looking at the liquid in her cup like it held the secrets to the universe. "During the war it just… it seemed like it would never end. I always hoped for an after, but I never let myself imagine it. I never let my thoughts drift to the 'after' because we never knew what the next day would bring."

Steve watched as Peggy took a slow sip of her tea, trying to hide that she was slightly uncomfortable in all she'd revealed. He rocked the swing gently with his foot, his eyes on her as he spoke softly. "This was exactly the kind of house I wanted when I was a kid: big yard, a driveway to ride my bike in and a quiet street to have stick ball games with my friends. I always thought that some day, somehow, I'd end up in a place like this." He reached out, letting his hand rest on her knee. "I was afraid, too, during the war. It was bad enough I barely knew how to talk to you at first," he blushed hiding his head as they both chuckled, remembering those first few awkward discussions. "But I did think about a future. I thought about those little base row houses and the special day passes they gave soldiers for their anniversaries." Peggy grabbed his hand, holding tight. "I never thought it would end, either."

Peggy nestled back into Steve's side, making him lift his tea to keep it from spilling with the way the swing tilted. She smiled bashfully before settling down, enjoying the closeness as the clouds turned pink and purple with the last rays of the sun. "And now we have this." She sighed, a happier sound this time. "What should we do next?"

"I don't know," Steve replied, taking another sip of his tea as he held Peggy close, "But this kinda feels like a good beginning, doesn't it?"

Peggy leaned up, capturing his lips with hers for a sweet kiss. "The best."


End file.
